I am not the world’s best cleaner. I am not a slob, I keep things generally neat and tidy, but I am not fluffing around the house in a panic if the washings not off the line by four or the dishes pile up in the sink.

Why? Because I am sane.

Or at least I like to think I am.

And cleaning. Well it is the very definition of insanity.

Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Cleaning is the most insane thing you can ever do. Kalyra and I clean up the room, it all looks wonderful, we clap and cheer and then two hours later, I’m tripping over barbie dolls and puzzle pieces are implanting themselves into my butt.

Due to my sane nature, I’ve learned to clean the toy room no more than once a week. Okay, let’s be honest once every fortnight. And if it means I have to look at the mess for a fortnight, I look at it. If I clean it every afternoon I’m still going to be looking at it anyway and I am not ready to get carted off in a straight jacket.

Could you imagine if your boss said to you, “I need the paperwork that is strewn over my desk filed neatly away. But in two hours time, I’m going to have them scattered all over the floor again in complete disarray so you’ll have to refile them.”

What would you say “You’re friggin crazy. Ain’t no way in hell I’m doing that.”

So we’ve determined that I, and let’s hope you, are not crazy. We are perfectly sane.

But what do we do about the mess that never disappears how ever hard we try?

We call on the help of others. The dishwasher for one, the husband for another, the children, and your insane cleaning friend or relative who cannot stand looking at the mess at your house.

Be my guest crazy person. Rather you than me.

And for those tasks that need human hands. We call on other crazies and pay them to do it, just like your boss will when he wants you to file away his crap.

And while I am not in a position to take on someone who likes to be paid to be insane, you can be sure you will know about it when I do.

Insanity will not live in my life any longer. I have more pressing priorities.

So next time you are frantically dusting for the third time in an hour, stop and have a look at your manic self. How do you look? How are you going to look the same time tomorrow? Pretty crazy right?

Put down your duster, make yourself a mojito, and think about other things you could be doing instead. Like taking the kiddies to the park, working on that novel you always wanted to start, meditating, exercising, and if you have to, watching terrible day time TV.

The crap will still be there tomorrow, trust me.

Relax and let sanity creep back in.