My housecleaning skills have never been more than adequate, perhaps a little subpar. Things don't get so far out of control that I cannot dig out, but I am not visual, so I don't see the clutter until the doorbell rings. It is when I see the place with "other's" eyes that I become aware of my surroundings and think, "Oh. my."
That doesn't mean that I am not interested in the whole process. I am charmed by books of cleaning "hints". Articles about home orginazation facinate me. My husband once told me that I needed a new cleaning manuel, one that said put down this book and get busy.
On the other hand, I have always liked to do laundry. It's a good thing, too, because we had lots of wash when the kids were growing up. When he was about 9 years old, our son Matthew, the third oldest of our eight children (pictured far left), claimed we should be eligible to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for "Most Dirty Laundry". Opening the laundry shute was dangerous business for a little kid. Clothes are heavy when a giant pile comes flying down a couple of stories and hits you in the face.
Once, when we were in a laundromat in Nebraska wheat country on a rainy day with all the kids, one of the fellows who was there washing clothes asked if we were following the harvest!
It still amazes me how little laundry I now do. Which I guess is okay, but I like doing laundry