I hate to clean.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a clean house but I hate doing the work to get it clean. 

     Dusting, oh, I’d rather play with the dogs.  Running the vacuum, yuck, it’s so noisy, wouldn’t it be better to sit and read a book?  Sweeping, it’s quieter but wasn’t there something I meant to write about?  Washing windows?  Do I really need to see outside?  If I wash the dogs’ nose prints off the windows, they’re back there in an hour anyway.  They call it decorating and I tend to agree with them.

     Who wants to schlep baskets of laundry down and back up two flights of stairs when there’s gardening to do?  I can go outside, pull a few weeds, daydream, and play with the Koi and the bullfrogs.  Therefore, the laundry piles up and when I finally break down to do it; I’m at it all day.  It’s a good thing to do on a rainy day.  I can cuddle with the dogs in between loads.  No, I didn’t say dust, vacuum, sweep, or wash windows.