So why, they ask, don’t we just keep it clean? Wouldn’t that be easier than rushing to do it at the last minute? Wouldn’t it be less stressful to wash the dishes after supper, rather than leaving them in the sink until they change colour?  Of course!

Except nobody is interested in cleaning.  Oh yeah, that little reality.

So we continue, day in, day out.  Our nice things get lost beneath jeans that haven’t been warn in a month since we haven’t done laundry since the time that our mother came over unannounced and insisted we bring a load to her house.  Dishes accumulate in the bedroom and it begins look like the kitchen.  Clothes accumulate in the bathroom and it begins to look like the kitchen.  And doesn’t it just seem easier to leave it like that?  You know, getting dressed in the bathroom isn’t that bad.  And who cares, anyway.

Really, that’s the problem.  Who cares?  I sure don’t.  My mom doesn’t come over and nag me.  My friends think it’s endearing and boyish.  Sure, I make a mild effort when people come over, and so my roommate doesn’t put macaroni in my bed.  Unless you have a live in boyfriend/girlfriend, or maybe just have a knack for cleaning, chances are you’ve got nobody to impress.  Even the roommate probably isn’t much better.

So. When do we hit that intangible age when you want to clean?  At what point do we all of a sudden want to scrub that pot as soon as it comes off the burner?  The truth is, we never do.  But we will eventually hit the point when we want to want to.  Sure, it’s going to suck.  But it has to happen eventually, so I’m going to bite the bullet and become domestic.  God, it even sucks to say it.  Domestic. Domestic. Do I really have to become my mother?

Well, I don’t think I do.  My plan is to gain my own motivation.  Not to draw it from my mother.  Not to become a stay at home mom overnight.  But to look for motivation for staying clean and organized.  And maybe enjoy it.

That, or light the apartment on fire and live in my car.  Shit, that’s full of crap too.