Few things bring more joy (when you're me) than refreshingly clean crisp rooms.

Getting high on Windex is in my nature. I grew up with neatnick parents who did all the housework while I dreamed, read, or played an instrument.

I got lucky and got someone to marry me who speaks the same language of Lysol which is to say when a space has been polished to near perfection, he smells nurturance, love and sensuality rather than disturbance. He's also not afraid to get his hands dirty and to clean like a mofo. (I'm sure there's a more apt description but 'clean like a bandit' is tragically mild and just not him.)

Our teen sons have yet to embrace their true nature or inner sparklemaker which is to say slobby demons still possess them and call the shots. The column 'Holy Teen Slackers' I wrote for ParentWise this month rants about it. I'm fairly sure Jesus is okay with me confessing to Texans how it helps to think Mary may have sighed 'Oy vey! Having a teen slacker moment...'

Since writing the piece, the slobbier of the teens moved away to college. We miss him and his beautiful soul but not the piles. It's frightening for us to imagine what microbes now lurk beneath the dorm room piles.