My mother-in-law was born with a cigarette in one hand and a vacuum in the other. Meanwhile, grandma had a tattoo of Mr. clean on her upper thigh and a can of Lysol holstered to her hip-. In her purse? A picnic lunch but that’s a different story for a different time. To them cleaning was religion.
From what I’m told these two were appalled by my cleaning disability. In fact, my husband quotes his grandma and shakes his head a lot watching my feeble attempts at cleanliness. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an animal; I floss, I change my underwear everyday (on Wednesday I wear pink) I smell fantastic, I wash dishes, I’ve scrubbed things. I just prefer to do other things that don’t involve sponges and me touching dirty stuff, so may I please present to you : my10 Commandments for lazy cleaning, so you too can fool people into thinking you’re half-way civilized.