Trying to be Domestic

You know, I think one of the biggest challenges for me is being domestic. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a clean bathroom, but I guess it just isn't my first priority. I really have to work hard to stay at home and do something that I "should" do. Here is an example. My office is ALWAYS in a complete state of disarray. I hate it. Craig hates it. But it is like trying to stay best friends with Paris Hilton. There are high times of my relationship with my office. But the low times are low, very low.
I have struggled forever to live up to what I was taught was the ok standard for what my home should be. My mom is a more than a model homemaker, she is what homemakers aspire to be when they get good at it. Her house is SO FREAKING CLEAN I might venture to say that germs have given up and moved to the creepy looking house next door. (Or maybe they have shacked up in the meat my mom isists upon defrosting on the counter, OVERNIGHT. Please, Mom, please defrost that crap in the microwave before you and Dad die of food borne illnesses.) I think she vacuums before the dust has a chance to settle from the last time she vacuumed. Everything always looks cute, tidy, put away, dusted, sparkling, fresh, [insert your own adjective or adverb.]
My sister Elly apparently gained most of this skill from my mom. Even though her life is in constant turmoil, she still has time to create awesome crafty things and always keep her house rediculously organized. It is so organized it is amazing. I remember how she used to ask me if she could organize my room. I still to this day, do not know if it is because it was horribly disorganized in her eyes, or she just loved organizing sooo much.
I am good at a few things. The fact was brought to my attention yesterday. One of our college students, Frank, was staying over a couple nights ago because he was catching the Amtrak to Chicago. He forgot his flip flops and I called him because I was concerned that he might need them. At first he deemed them not necessary, but then recanted. I decided that he needed a lunch for the train, too, so I made him one. He was grateful and it was no big deal to me. I know that that sort of a monkey wrench would screw up more than just the morning for some people, but I like those sort of interruptions. I also love to cook. I am not sure if anyone if my family likes it as much as me, but I know my dad benefits greatly from this hobby. He loves it when I cook, especially things like Mushroom Struedel or anything else with a lot of garlic.
I guess re-reading this still leaves me feeling inadequate, like those are ok things but not quite the Standard of Awesome. But maybe someday I will excel at things like some of the fantastic ladies in my life.