Do you ever feel like you have to be perfect? Dinner a beautiful, satisfying and balanced meal? Laundry washed, ironed, hung or folded? Floors vacuumed, swept and mopped? Bathrooms sparkle? Windows too! Your home a reflection of who you are? Does Martha Stewart clean before the maid comes over? My Mom used to. She would spin around in a tizzy trying to throw away newspapers, swiping dust and doing the coffee cups in the sink. My Father would say, what's the point? But she couldn't or wouldn't let the maid think she was a Dirty Housekeeper! Now, I was trained to be a "Good Wife" starting at the age of 10. Saturday was chore day and it began with learning how to cook breakfast. Using my Cookbook for kids and one of my Mom's aprons dragging to my ankles I proudly served my Father his brown scrambled eggs and even browner toast, which he exuberantly ate,(or slyly fed to the dog under the table). Pronouncing it delicious! I cheerily ran off to do the dishes, sweep the kitchen, mop and then moved on to dusting and vacuuming and laundry and bathrooms and changing sheets! Whew! I was so worn out I'd fall asleep during the Saturday afternoon Elvis Theater. I learned to mow the yard and rake and bag leaves in the Fall. Just because I was a girl didn't mean that I couldn't work like a boy even though I tried hard not to be a tomboy, I was. I'd rather climb trees and chase lightning bugs and make mud pies than play dolls. Maybe because my neighbors were all boys or my cousins that I played with the most.
After I got married (at 19), I tried hard to be a good housewife. Preparing meals, cleaning, laundry...after all, isn't that what a Good Wife does? She takes care of the house, the yard, the kids, the groceries, the bills....does it end? The Good Husband goes to work and brings home the paycheck and that's it! There aren't any vacations or time off for Mom's or Wives. It doesn't matter if it's a holiday- in fact that usually means extra work! I say it's thankless and unimportant. I say that when your kids grow up, do you want them to remember the training they were put through or the times you sat and watched cartoons with them or played a game with them? I have always thought I was somewhat old-fashioned, but, now I wonder if I am just a bra burning Women's rights activist who is tired of being defined by the condition her house is in. I would rather sew or play with the dog or waste hours wandering the web in search of the next glorious, can you imagine that item! I care not for mopped floors and clean clothes. I hate to dust. It's a waste of energy. The dust floats right back down. It settles on everything and patiently waits to mock your efforts at domestic bliss.
Times have certainly changed and when I was single I didn't dust or care. No one was there to write in it, like the back of a mini-van's window. wash me. love me. Is that what it is: love. If you love something or someone do you pamper them with affection and take care of them? Are we care-givers and nurturers by nature because The Creator knew Men weren't going to do it? But, they certainly do like it done for them. Bake a pie: love. Make the bed: love. Sew some curtains: love. Stay on line for 10 hours a day: no love.
So I have been selfish and lazy and having a blast surfing, cruising, wandering. It's better than the library- no bums loitering about. I have complete control. I am empowered by the knowledge I acquire. I absolutely love it. The housework will always be there. The fleeting Internet images that flickr in my minds eye are too dazzling to ignore. Why get bogged down in dreary cleaning and cooking when you can float from blog to blog...site to site. My Husband says I am obsessed. Maybe I am. Maybe it's fun. Maybe I am taking some Kimmie time. Maybe I will be renewed and refreshed and better able to cope with the disappointing reality that this is all there is. You live. You die. You dust. What you do with your time here is important. You shouldn't waste it on housework. 
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