Giving up the sloven

I hold my hands up and confess to the fact that I have a cleaner - she comes once a week (15 minutes early and always catches me in my pjs or mid breakfast - or these days post vomit). She hoovers and cleans the hob and does the bathroom and generally keeps on top of the weekly clean. This however is a double edged sword - it allows me to believe that my house is clean and that I need not get out the hoover, clean under the bed, or wipe the fronts of the kitchen cupboard. So if you look closely you will see that my house really isn't all that clean - well not the sort of clean that I like anyway.

Mr Jones and I have different ideas as to what clean is - I'd like clean sheets every day - he likes the slept in feel. He therefore is perfectly happy with the weekly clean by our somewhat mute Polish "woman that does". I, on the other hand, am suffering frequent paroxysms (heard only by myself and the cats) about the state of the bin cupboard. I know it's a bin cupboard and by nature is supposed to be a bit gross - but I just feel the need to clean it. The thing is the vomiting is rather limiting when it comes to getting down and dirty with the Dettol (or Ecover as it is in our house - but I like alliteration). And Mr Jones can't be persuaded by any stretch of the imagination to clean out a bin cupboard in his rare moments at home (he's still in Scotland).

Apparently this need to clean (I want to move the sofas, sort out all the paperwork, clean under the beds, weed out the wardrobes and rearrange and wipe down the kitchen cupboards) is something to do with being pregnant. A nesting instinct as it were. So the next time I get some spare time, feel a mite human and can get my hands in my marigolds I will be found cleaning out the bin cupboard. Unless of course some kind person finds it in their heart to come and lift me out of my slovenly habits before that day.