Housekeeping Blues

Yesterday I whirled and twirled around my house like a dervish doing laundry, scrubbing bathrooms, cleaning the kitchen, and wrapping the last few presents.

I moved all day long and today there are dirty dishes, dirty clothes, and dirty bathrooms.

At least the presents are still wrapped.

I know, this is life. Life is dirty. But the futility of it all is getting me down.

On the bright side, I had company yesterday. One of the Amys spent the day here so she could write an article on her laptop. At one point she looked at me and said, "You don't ever stop, do you?"

The ultimate irony? She spent the day here because her housekeeper was cleaning her house. She didn't want to be in the housekeeper's way so she sought refuge over here.

Please Santa, can't I have a housekeeper, too? Just every other week to scrub the bathrooms and change the sheets?

Kevin has never had a housekeeper and pretty much thinks it's a sin to pay someone to clean your house.

I, however, grew up with a live-in housekeeper who did windows and made an incredible lemon meringue pie.

Two different worlds, I tell you. And granted, my sisters and I weren't exactly industrious when it came to cleaning the house as kids. I won't lie: we were downright lazy.

But I don't think I'm being lazy now. I'm just trying not to be depressed when I spend a whole day cleaning but still don't have a clean house.

Am I alone in this?