I blame my mother.
Growing up, my mom was a fastidious cleaner. I think I started rebelling against her extreme cleanliness standards young, channeling my inner pack rat and having a messy room. It seemed at times having a perfect house was more important than enjoying life. You can read all sorts of psychology in to this, but in many ways my mom claims this was one way that she felt she had control over her life, was controlling her environment to the nth degree.
Weekends are my big clean up day. I hate to admit it, some nights, cleaning the kitchen is the last thing I want to do. So, things get cluttered. Sometimes life happens, and I can't say that making sure my house is picture perfect all the time is ever going to happen. Hell, I am proud when the house stays semi-tidy for my work week... normally it is "big clean up day" around the house on Saturday.. or if I push it.. Sunday. Working full-time, juggling home life, is one helluva balance.
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