I am my Mother's Daughter

Maybe it's because my mother is (was) a home ec teacher. Maybe it's the damage from her being so "left brained" (a.k.a. anal retentive) that I had to have "outfits" and could only wear certain shirts with certain pants -- otherwise they fade in the wash differently, don't you know. But I only have one way to clean.

I cannot straighten. I used to be good at shoving things creatively into spaces that I thought my mother wouldn't check . . . under the bed, in the closet, the usual. I don't bother with that anymore now that I have my own house. I just step over it. But when I clean I do this obsessive "must clean under the couch" move everything, dust the ceiling, thing. Which I am in the middle of right now. Living room is almost done. Just have to do one more wall and vacuum one final time.

Then it will be on to the kitchen and bathroom. Maybe I'll have Princess come over next week to deal with the dining room, though I can't imagine her stripping furniture. It's too hard on the nails.

I do love my Dyson.