Dear Housework

Dear Housework,

It’s not you, it’s me. Obviously, you’re great. It seems like everyone I know is super into you. But I’m sorry, time is precious and something has to give and — I’ll just come right out and say it — it’s you.

I know it sounds like I’m making excuses. But, Housework, think about all the other stuff I have to do: my actual job (you know, the one I’m paid for, making this stuff), making dinner every night, planning and shopping for those dinners and all the other food in this house, making nachos, eating nachos, rewatching the entire Grey’s Anatomy anthology (spoiler alert for person who’s been in a coma since 2008 but still wants to watch Grey’s: the guy on the bus was George, nooooooo!), raising two kids. And do you think those two kids are helping with the housework? Ha ha ha, Housework, you funny. (I’m considering pitching Hoarders Junior to the networks. It’s like Hoarders but with more “artwork”!) The other day our neighbor’s six-year old came over to play in the toy pit and went, “This place is such a MESS!” with genuine shock in her voice.  And she was right. So I’ve been mess-shamed by a kindergartner.

I also insist on running at least a mile a day (idiot alert: wee-oh! wee-oh!) and making my kids breakfast every day (wee-oh! wee-oh!) so that they can eat upwards of 1/4 of it and then say they’re full/they don’t like the thing they’ve liked for the previous 18 months. Sometimes I even step it up and make them a lunch for school, one they can bring back half-eaten and say they didn’t like. These important endeavors take time! If my kids are gonna throw out food, you better believe it’s gonna be food I painstakingly prepared and packed.

You know what else takes time? Watching the Handmaid’s Tale, becoming preoccupied that the Handmaid’s Tale is in fact some prescient documentary, having Project Beer & Nachos meetings, Date Night, showering, occasionally shaving (see Date Night), blogging, Facebooking, browsing shelter dogs online, and tweeting. And all these things take precedence over you, Housework. I mean, what’s the point in having a clean house if you don’t even have time to tweet about it?

It’s not like I’ve forgotten about you. How could I? You’re always there, mocking me. On the couch, in the hallway, on the kitchen counter.

(Stay strong. Only 160 more Grey’s episodes until I can get to you, laundry.)

But Housework, it doesn’t matter how many hints (read: single socks) you drop, I’m just not that into you.

I’d love to tell you that I see a real future between us, Housework, but I’ve always been honest with you (except on my Pinterest board, but everyone knows we lie to ourselves and others on Pinterest) and I just don’t think we’re a fit. I’m truly sorry things haven’t worked out between us.

Perhaps there’ll be a spark between you and Matty (fingers crossed).

All the best,

Natasha

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Do you make time for housework? If so, please tell me your secret in the comments.