I’ve finally figured out what it is that I hate about housework. It’s not because I’m a slob; rather I’ve often referred to myself as a neat freak trapped inside a messy person’s body. I love when things are clean. I like when everything is sparkly and all the toys are picked up and put away and I can walk through the living room without tripping over the little Bert from the Sesame Street playset, stubbing my toe on the Fisher Price piano, or stepping on a rogue Cheerio.
Not only do I feel happy and relaxed when everything is straightened up, I also love – in theory at least – the look of rooms in the Ikea catalog that I stash in my desk drawer like it’s porn and if you asked what my favorite design style is, I love the whole Asian minimalist look tremendously. You would never guess though, because we have so much STUFF everywhere, so much clutter, that minimalist is definitely not the first thing that would come to mind. Our home decor is more like “comfort meets exploded toy store”.
However, clutter frustrations aside, there are two major reasons why I hate the efforts of housework.



