I really hate laundry. Like, with a seething, undying passion. The backdoor JERK neighbour has this overgrown flame tree that hangs over my clothesline encouraging all kinds of creepy crawlies to live in my peg basket. I grew up with a hippy father who didn't like us using electricity unnecessarily so I know that the dryer is bad.. but I totally wait for days like today to actually do the laundry. It's raining, oh well, I'll have to use the dryer!
I have never cleaned my bin. Hubby had a little fit a few weeks ago when we awoke to maggots, yes maggots, on the kitchen floor. It was putrid and terrifying, but I still haven't cleaned the bin. What's the point? I'm only going to put more rubbish in it.
Whenever my mother comes to visit I turn into a mad scrubbing machine trying to make the house presentable. That is the only time my bathroom ever meets any kind of mould remover or glass cleaner. This is also the only time I'll dust. I like that the parentals don't visit too often because I wouldn't want hubby to get used to a bathroom that shiny.
Having confessed to these little feral undertones, my house is actually really tidy. I get really stressed out when there is shit everywhere. The beds are always made and ready for a certain three year old to jump on and mangle. The loo gets cleaned freakishly regularly because of that same three year old who is still learning to aim... can't stand the smell of wees on the floor! The kitchen especially is always clean. Well, except for nights when I'm tired and hubby has cooked (read- turned the kitchen into a bomb site). Those nights I rinse the crap and leave it for future Amy to sort out. Future Amy is always pissed in the morning.
I am a good cook. I chuck onions and garlic into a jar of anything and vòila! If I'm having a lazy night I just text Rick and tell him I'm cooking something new and innovative and he'll say he's eaten at work already. Then Axel and I eat toast.
Best. Housewife. Ever!