I hate cleaning, especially when it’s not even my own house. I’m at my parents’ house. See, once the kids (who used to do all the cleaning) move out, it is then the parents’ responsibility for the up keep. Mine aren’t doing so well.

It is a big house, but it really doesn’t help that my mother buys stuff from QVC, puts it in my old room, then expects me to clean it when we have company. This is not my house anymore.

But I clean. And clean. And clean. I even mopped the fucking floor, which looked like it hadn’t been mopped in a year.

I don’t want you to think our house is a pigsty. There are no dirty dishes in the sink and no roaches. It’s just dusty and kinda cluttered.

I just hate helping clean up crap I didn’t create. I picked up the piles of clothes in my room- FINE. I made the mess; I’m responsible for the clean up.

When I was younger, I remember when housework was part of my parents’ routine. But as me sister and I got older, we took on more and more chores. Not helping- we did all the cleaning. Then when we left, my parents just don’t care enough to clean it. My mom argues that she doesn’t have time. My dad argues the same. But they do have time. They just don’t make “cleaning the house” part of that time.

Shit, I ain’t getting paid to clean their house.  They just need to hire a freakin house cleaner. It doesn’t take a scientist.