The dirty cleaning truth...

I like to think of myself as a common or garden variety modern woman.  I'm (relatively) young, independent, self sufficient, only slightly neurotic, and capable of keeping both myself and a cat alive simultaneously.  I'd say that puts me ahead of the curve in most cases.

I own a car, a washing machine, and a ridiculous looking fake silver tree that sits on my side board and serves no noticeable purpose.  I work 40 hours a week, do the bare minimum of housework that I can get away with without someone mistaking my place for a demolition site, and spend far too much time on the internet.  I'm your standard single office dwelling thirty something.

But the truth is ... and I can't tell you how much my modern liberated soul rebels at telling you all this ... there's a wee little part of me that can't help singing with glee when I read a cleaning tip in a magazine.  A small part of my subconscious perks up when I see a beautifully laid out living room plan in a home decorating magazine.  Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my brain, is the knowledge that you can use a walnut to erase scratches on polished wooden furniture.

Yes ... I'm a cleaning porn junkie.

I know!  I'm not supposed to want it!  I'm not supposed to yearn for the days when keeping an immaculate house was the benchmark of an accomplished woman.  But I just can't help it!

There's just something about the whole idea of it!  A beautiful house, scrubbed and polished within an inch of it's life.  The smell of fresh baking wafting from the kitchen.  Crisp linens drying on the line in the back yard.

And the funny thing?  It's not like I have any intention of DOING any of these things!  Oh no, that would cut into my sitting on the couch and bumming around on the internet far more than I'm comfortable with!

Maybe that's it!  I don't want to be an old fashioned housewife, I want to GET an old fashioned housewife!  That'd be perfect!  I'd have all the benefits of having a perfectly appointed and immaculately kept house without having to do any of the nasty jobs myself.  It'd be perfect, I could come home to "How was your day, Honey" a pair of warmed slippers, and a martini.

Only one problem ... I'm not gay.  So I guess a housewife is out of the question.  I could always try for a house husband I suppose, but from observation I'd say that an old fashioned house husband is about a thousand times harder to find than one of the feminine variety.

I could always hire someone I guess.  Put an add on Craigslist?  "Wanted, male homekeeper for a slightly scatterbrained professional woman.  Must be adept at doing laundry, scrubbing, baking, and aforementioned woman (boom-chicka-wa-wa)."

Hmm, but when you're talking about hiring a spouse rather than a cleaning person, you end up walking a pretty fine line between mail order groom and gigolo ... and I'm not entirely sure which side of that line I'd prefer to fall on.