Faking it: Housekeeping edition

I am not a good housekeeper. Just a fact. As far as I can tell, all my friends are better housekeepers than me. Based on my research (i.e., my conversations with them), they are good housekeepers for one of three reasons:
(1) they genuinely enjoy cleaning,
(2) they feel guilty if they don't clean, or
(3) they are driven crazy by mess and feel compelled to clean.
Most of my friends are one of the latter. I am none of the above. Don't get me wrong, I much prefer to have a clean house, but I'm never uber-motivated to make it that way. I am more of a wait-till-it-really-needs-it-and-go-on-a-cleaning-binge type than a maintenance cleaner.

On Saturday night, I was out to dinner with some of my hot mom friends (all my mom friends are hot, btw). I mentioned that I regularly let dishes sit in the sink for a couple days before dealing with them. In unison, all seven women at the table made a "ewwww" face. Hmmm. Turns out I am gross. (One or two of them admitted that they might be gross like me if their husbands weren't bothered by messy kitchens. My feeling about this is that my husband has hands and knows where the dishwasher is.)

Anyhoo, this week I have made a concerted effort to maintain a clean kitchen. Each night, all the dishes have been cleaned and/or loaded by bedtime (except when they needed to soak...you know how that is) (or maybe you don't). I have to say, it's fine, but I don't feel amazing about it or anything. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this housekeeping thing.

So I'll keep faking it for a while longer (I do think it makes the hubby happier), but if it doesn't become more intrinsically rewarding, I'll probably just go back to being gross.