Confessions from a dirty house

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www.dbdazedomain.wordpress.com

I have something to confess. My house is in a right state. It's never been the tidiest or cleanest of homes, but lately it's taken a turn for the much-worse. In fact, these days it probably rivals my renowned for chaos sibling's sister's place for mess (sorry Katie).
We used to clean every week. On Saturdays, like much of the population. You know how it is - work Monday-Friday, do the household chores Saturday and chill out Sunday.
But now it sometimes goes a month without so much as a squirt of Spray & Wipe. Because our routine has changed from weekly to fortnightly. Now, for both of us, it's work Wednesday to Thursday (of the following week) and do the chores and chilling on the ensuing days off (Friday to Tuesday). But for some inexplicable reason, there are times when the housework still doesn't get done on those five days.
"WHAT?! How can you have five days and STILL not get any cleaning done?" I can hear you - and my mother - shrieking.
Well, I don't know. I've often asked myself that on a Tuesday night when getting ready for work the next day and noticing the dust bunnies piling up in such numbers they could have a parliamentary debate between them. What the hell did I do with those hours that meant there was no time for a spot of vacuuming? Honestly, I've no idea. But it does mean that the housework doesn't get a look-in til the next lot of days off, taking the time between cleans close to four weeks.
Strangely, the place doesn't get as disgusting as I'd expect during that time. Well, the verandah does. Traffic from four human and eight large dog feet, and the kind of red dirt more insidious and sticky than a True Blood addiction (cough) ensures that.

My back verandah not half an hour after being swept.
And Razz, who has to be involved in everything.

Or maybe it really is grossly dirty and I just don't notice anymore. Maybe my husband's near blindness to grot and mess until it obscures his path to the beer fridge has finally rubbed off on me. Or maybe because compared to work - where we process ore, an intrinsically grimy activity - home is actually pretty clean.
Whatever the case, I reckon I can handle the occasional four-week gap between proper cleans. Just don't tell my landlord.

What's your tipping point when it comes to cleaning? The appearance of one tiny cobweb in the corner? Or do you only drag out the Jif when your parents - or inlaws - are due a visit?

I know, I can't believe I just blogged about housework either. 

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