I'm an anomaly. And I am fully self aware.
Married almost 35 years and with four adult children successfully raised, I managed to get by without doing much cooking or cleaning. Now that it's just my hubby and me, I don't do it at all.
Here's the deal. I am a full-time author creating a career. That takes a heckuva lot of work: hours sitting at a computer writing, networking emailing, blogging. Then there are the many opportunities to speak, meet up with a mentor or muse, or attending a writers' group meeting. And, on occasion, go on a date with my man. Chat with one of the adult kids. Or just relax with a friend over a cup of coffee.
I don't have time to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry.
I am blessed with a husband who shows his love with acts of service. That covers the dishes, laundry and yard work. Then I got a reference for a very reasonable cleaning gal and hired her. She comes only when I call. And now that we are (sadly) pet-free, once a month about does it.
Do I feel guilty? Um… no. Why not? Because I work 60-70 hours a week. If I was a high-powered executive, no one would blink an eye at my lack of domesticity. Just because I work in an office in my house, and sometimes in my pajamas if my characters wake me up jabbering, it doesn't mean I'm not a professional.
I'm getting paid for my work. And if I want to keep getting paid, I need to keep creating a quality product. Let's be real - I can't produce a word count if I'm scrubbing a bathroom floor.
Our society does put pressure on us all to meet certain criteria. And some of us were told that only women can do certain things. While I celebrate daily the differences between the sexes (I do write romance novels!) nowhere is there an immutable list of what tasks are "female" or "male." Or even "required."
So if housekeeping isn't your thing, I hereby give you all permission to "author up" and do what needs to be done. Write. Read. Plot. Research. Write some more. Use paper plates and plastic forks. Paper towels. Hire someone else to clean the bathrooms and dust the shelves.
Life is short. Follow your calling.
And don't apologize.