clean genes

I was recently reading my diary from ages about eight to ten, and the following type of entry seemed to be quite prominent:

I cleaned the living room.

I cleaned the bathroom.

I cleaned the bedroom.

Today I cleaned the living room and so my sister did too.

I admit there were entries about playing with friends, playing jacks, (anyone remember that game?) my goldfish that "tried to die," and an entry about the time I ran behind some swings at the park, got smacked into by some innocent swinger, slit my chin open, passed out, and had to have seventeen stitches. However, the entries about cleaning were fairly prominent. It would seem that I started the "clean freak" thing at a very early age.

I've always wished I could pass this "clean gene" on to my children. As they've grown up, it has appeared that each one has entirely missed out on it until they become grownups and they begin to care about their own homes.

The above picture is my sweet little parti-pom, Miley. You will note that her toys are lined up in a neat little row. I know you're thinking that I did it, but I didn't. I left the room for some minutes, and when I returned, her toys were all lined up like this. The hard part was getting her to sit next to them for a photo. A few treats were involved.

It would seem I've passed on my clean genes after all.