I feel extremely sorry for anyone who visits my house who is a 'neat freak'. My house is an absolute pig sty at the moment.
There are dishes piling up on the sink that haven't been done for about four days (I used my last knife tonight), the bed in my spare room is piled high with unfolded washing which, without exaggerating one little bit, I can tell you hasn't been folded in about four months, I have cobwebs on my loungeroom ceiling that I'm not allowed to remove as, according to Christian, they 'keep the mozzies away', and my back verandah is a fire trap waiting to happen as there are leaves piled ankle deep.
Each weekend I tidy the house, vacuum, clean the toilet and the bathroom and then do a few loads of washing to get the towels, sheets and our work uniforms done, but the rest of it just doesn't seem to happen. I hate with a passion doing the dishes and folding washing and so I leave that to my dutiful husband (he manages the dishes usually but not the washing).
I just never seem to find the time to get all those little extra things done that make the difference between 'tidy' and 'clean'. Occasionally I'll just be in a cleaning mood and attack the place with a ferocity that somehow scares me, but these incidents are few and far between.
Does it make me a bad person that I would rather be spending my weekends on the net talking to you lot, or lounging in my hammock reading a book? Personally I don't think so, but the people who get attacked by the creatures growing in my sink may think otherwise.
Anyway, if we ever get around to having an Australian MoH Sleepover, I'll make sure I take the time to clean my place properly.
Just for you.