We all have our things with cleaning. Even those of
us* who hatehatehate housework have something
that you like. Whether it be your Roomba, or huffing Pledge, we all like something. I, personally, cannot get enough of the smell of my laundry soap
and would rather have a root canal than have to part with my excessively large stash of stain-removers. I like stains. I kick stains asses.
My husband simply cannot live without Windex. He loves it. He couldn't care less if the entire house had a hurricane blow through it (not true), so long as the coffee table shines. Turns out, he's not the only one.
This, of course, is the most awesome awesomeness ever. This means I just got one less chore to do. She loved
it. He sprayed; she wiped. She told him where to spray and he obliged.
She and I have fun cleaning games, too; she'll grab a sponge and say, "Cwean, Momma!" and then my kitchen cabinets get scrubbed, but this was dad and she sorta has a crush
on him and now they have this new game to play together. It's important to have someone who shares your
You know what's not awesome in any way about this whole thing? The fact that all of this happened at 11:30 in the PM last night. Eleven. And Thirty. At NIGHT. You see that bottle in the very corner of the picture? That was as close as she came to it for hours
. Someone needs to talk to this kid about the human body and it's need to sleep
.No, really, I love housework. It's, like, my total favorite thing ever. And if you believe that, I also have some beach-front property in Denver I'm looking to unload.