I am not a good housekeeper. I'm not a dirty person or anything, but I'm lax in the tidy department. I'm comfortable with a bit of grime and dirt. And that is the current state of affairs of my home at present. Not gross or unhygienic, but... rustic, let's say.
When left to my own devices I'm merely sloppy, a little unkempt in the living room area, dishevelled in the bedroom and a dish piler in the kitchen. But the spills get cleaned, the bathroom gets scrubbed and garbage goes to live in the trash. Living with the Dude, life's gotten a little messier.
In the face of a messy guy living with them, a lot of women will take on the extra housework themselves and grow agitated. I personally have just lowered my expectations for my home's cleanliness. It's easier.
I tell myself that my children's immune systems one day will be glorious and that mine must already be ready for the plague. Well, maybe not the plague, I mean, my place isn't that bad. But still, this isn't exactly suitable for the delicate.
All of this means that we have to clean this place. We're having a BBQ this Sunday and while I'm comfortable with a certain amount of crust (Ha!), I can't bear the thought of exposing the people I care about to it. It's bad enough when unexpected service people have to poke through my place and I have to say, "Excuse the mess."
I do love entertaining though, and not just because I love seeing my friends (Which I do). It's a delightful way to instigate a massive clean up and get the Dude interested in scouring the apartment with me.