My garage is so clean, you can eat off the floor,” I overheard one woman telling another over coffee not too long ago.

   I discreetly looked in the direction of the voice because I needed to make sure I knew what the woman looked like; I never want to make the mistake of inviting her over to my house. Or even give her a ride in my car.

   My husband used to call me a “neatnik.” That was way back in 1988 BC (Before Children). I used to spend hours upon hours scrubbing, scraping, mopping, dusting, and making beds before and after going to work, and even after the first three kids I’d get the house all neat and tidy while they were in school. But when the fourth one came along, I found that I had to change my definition of clean drastically or be in a constant state of angst and overload. Where once I would shudder at the thought of dusty light fixtures, now I just keep them turned off until I work up enough energy to clean them.

   I guess that as the years have passed, and the duties of mothering and running a household (not to mention working a full-time job) have left me burning the candle at both ends, I’ve lost my will to clean. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not on the level of any of those folks you see on a show like Hoarders. I do have my standards. For instance, if walking across the kitchen floor feels like a walk on the beach, it’s probably time to get out the ole vacuum. If the papers I’m grading stick to the kitchen counter, it might be time to give the countertop a good “once-over” with a rag and good dousing of “Daily Granite.” And even though I won’t be winning any awards from the American Cleaning Institute, I do pride myself on the fact that I take the trash out often enough to keep the house from smelling like a landfill, and get the laundry washed, folded and put away before everyone runs out of clean underwear (most weeks, anyway).

   As far as those who have garage floors clean enough to eat from go, I’m thinking they must live alone, don’t have pets, and never serve food or drink when entertaining. Let’s face it, about five minutes after any life form walks through the door, your floors will be soiled with dust, dirt, food particles, and anything else it/he/she has on the bottom of its/his/her feet.

    So, when it comes to housework, do yourself a favor and reevaluate your definition of “clean.” Also, keep these words of the great Erma Bombeck in mind: “My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch on fire or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one cares. Why should you?”