(Later post due to running group meet-up this morning. 4 miles in 55 minutes, if you’re curious.)

I have a love/hate relationship with cleaning.

For the hate, I blame my mom. Every Saturday was cleaning day, starting with the bathroom then proceeding through the rest of the house.  No matter what was going on that weekend, if we were home, we’d have to clean. It drove me bonkers. When I moved out, I decided I would never again put an entire day aside just to clean.

Yet, cleaning is a fun challenge. Can you figure out how to put everything away in its place so things are easy to get to yet don’t make things look cluttered? Can you clean every smudge off the bathroom sink? Can you finally get all the cat hair out from behind the filing cabinet? It’s like a battle with dirt as your enemy. And, when you’re done, you can really, truly relax because your home no longer makes your skin crawl.

The hate usually wins, which is probably why our place is often a mess. Sure, it’s looks great when we have people over, but that’s only because we spent a few hours scrambling to make it look that way. Having people over more often has helped keep things clean, but if it’s been more than a week or two, things can get bad.

Cat hair on every surface. Crud on the kitchen floor. Overflowing trashcans in the office and bedroom. You get the picture.

When I got home from running this morning, the cleanup began. Matt started downstairs, me upstairs. Divide and conquer.

My much cleaner desk. Still has lots on it but, hey, I need all of it handy. The bins below contain my yarn stash. Yes, all of it. Really.

Cardboard and paper recycling, plus a wine rack to be put away. Always feels good to have a giant pile of stuff waiting to be taken away.

We’ve only made a little progress so far but I am already starting to feel better. Alison is moving in next weekend and I want to make sure the place looks only a little like a disaster area by then.