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Grab five minutes, if you have them, and join me on what may or may not be a journey that resonates with you.
The Never-Ending Housework Cycle
There I was again: standing in my kitchen, exhausted from the day that had passed and staring at another hour and a half of cleaning. Knowing that, at best, it would simply make the room feel nice. But I was so exhausted.
I’d already done the washing, emptied the dishwasher, hand-washed dishes, cleaned the toilet, and picked up toys (times five). Yet there was still this never-ending pile of stuff. Everywhere I looked, there were little mountains of clutter occupying every available surface.
I had tried apps on my phone, checklists, daily schedules, and every hack social media could throw at me. I’d bought at least five different types of laundry basket, obsessed over folding techniques, decluttered endlessly, and researched non-toxic cleaning methods. Yet I still had a home I wouldn’t want to show anyone.
In fact, if someone was coming to visit, there was a good day and a half blocked out just to get the house presentable—with rising panic if they even considered going upstairs once they arrived.
I lived in a world of constant chaos and perpetual lost items. Worse still, because I’d researched so much, I also knew the house wasn’t actually as clean as I thought it should be.
Then the weekend would arrive.
My husband, after a long week of work, would begin his angry cleaning march around the house, commenting on its state and how unfair it felt that he had to spend a large chunk of his weekend fixing it.
The guilt and shame I felt would bubble up into defensiveness and defiance. Outwardly, I’d argue that:
a) he lived here too, and
b) he was ignoring how much I’d already done.
But inwardly, I felt like a complete failure and slipped into a victim mindset.
“Fine,” I’d think. “That’s it. I’ll just spend all my evenings sorting this out. I’ll never see him—and that’ll serve him right.”
The epitome of cutting my nose off to spite my face.
What Holidays Taught Me About Keeping House
But then one day, I decided I was smart enough to figure out a way to break this awful cycle.
While on holiday, I spent some time thinking it all through and wondering why it was so much easier to stay on top of everything when we were away.
At first, I thought: less stuff.
But then I realised—that wasn’t it.
On holiday we still use just as much stuff. We wash clothes. We make breakfast in the Airbnb. Often I make lunch too.
So what was different?
The difference I identified was this: being in a new environment kept me switched on and vigilant. I was constantly tracking mess, washing items, putting them away quickly, and keeping the dishwasher empty of clean dishes.
That was the number one method I decided to bring home.
Rather than an all-or-nothing approach—or even a daily task list approach—what I needed was a flow.
A way of moving through the house with awareness rather than waiting for chaos to become overwhelming.
It wasn’t a magic fix, and it did require some systems to be in place.
But for the first time, I began to wonder if the problem wasn’t that I was lazy, failing, or incapable.
Maybe I just needed a system designed for the way my brain actually works.
The Problem Wasn’t Cleaning—It Was Finishing
I had already created a small system in my kitchen. I’d stored the plates and cups in a drawer directly next to the dishwasher. Since those—and the cutlery—make up most of what fills it, I’d engineered a situation where emptying the dishwasher takes five minutes maximum.
Not bad, right?
But where was my bottleneck?
I realised I didn’t have the whole finished job in mind when I considered doing the dishes.
For me, “dishwasher on” and “items on the draining board” had somehow registered as done.
Except they weren’t.
And honestly, once I figured this out, I began looking at every household task the same way.
Lo and behold: laundry had a finish line of washed and dried—but not put away. In fact, “put away” had quietly become its own separate job.
For everything.
Toys? Picked up and taken to the correct room—but not put away.
Shopping? Unpacked—but not fully put away.
Clean washing? Folded—but not put away.
The irony was that this final step—the putting away—was actually the thing creating most of the visual chaos.
Without it, everything else became noise.
Noise that simply overwhelmed me.
Because when every surface holds things waiting for their final destination, your brain never gets to register that a task is truly complete.
Meanwhile, the less obvious jobs quietly slipped through the cracks.
Bathrooms only got cleaned when Sergeant Major Husband stepped in because I was too busy fighting fires. Anything hidden behind a closed door, or anything that looked “good enough” at first glance, simply disappeared from my radar.
I wasn’t failing because I wasn’t working hard enough.
I was working incredibly hard.
I just hadn’t realised that in my mind, I’d been drawing the finish line in the wrong place.
Done Means Put Away
So where are we now?
Three weeks after my holiday—and after one fairly epic mass put-away session that took the best part of a day—the results are in.
Following the Great Put Away, I initially installed a couple of rules to help ensure I closed the loop on activities at the correct point:
a) Done means put away.
b) Always be clearing: sides, floors, and washing.
c) The One Touch Method (borrowed from the many cleaning hacks and videos I’ve consumed over the years): if you pick something up, wherever possible, deal with it completely there and then.
And the results?
Drum roll, please…
I have a clean house.
A calm house.
A house that I love and run, that the standards keep going up in—rather than one that feels like a noose around my neck.
I’ve even managed to declutter a cupboard, my entire wardrobe, and my daughter’s room.
And here’s the truly remarkable thing: there is still a very long list of things that need doing.
The difference is that I’m no longer starting from a two-hour put-away situation that used to consume all of my cleaning energy before I’d even begun.
Now, I actually enjoy working through the list.
AND—because everywhere is tidy, and each room passes my “Would I be embarrassed if another human being saw this?” test—I find myself noticing little five-minute jobs that I can fit in here and there.
My benchmark?
I often imagine either Princess Kate or the late Queen walking through the door.
If it passes royal eyes, I roll with it.
Perfection is no longer the goal. Presentable is.
And if I don’t tackle those little jobs immediately, they go onto an actual list in the notes section of my phone—because for perhaps the first time ever, the list feels manageable rather than defeating.
It turns out that keeping a house wasn’t about finding more time.
For me, it was about redefining where “done” actually ends.
The Ripple Effect
There are some other ways I’m using this wonderful notes section to keep me in order too, which I’ll share in my next post.
But perhaps the most important thing to mention is the impact this has had on my relationship with my family.
There is more laughter among us.
My husband no longer has to become a soldier on top of an already gruelling work schedule just to keep the house functioning.
The tension that used to simmer beneath the surface has eased.
And me?
I’m feeling house proud.
Not because my home is perfect—it isn’t—but because it finally feels like a home that supports us rather than drains us.
More than that, I feel as though I’m letting go of an old story I’ve carried for a very long time.
The story that I was messy.
Disorganised.
Failing.
Not trying hard enough.
Instead, I’m stepping into a space of higher self-worth and recognising that sometimes the answer isn’t working harder—it’s working differently.
Three weeks is hardly a lifetime, and perhaps there will be bumps along the road. But for now, my home feels calmer, my mind feels lighter, and my family feels happier.
And that, to me, feels like far more than a cleaning hack.
It feels like freedom.
More on the notes system next time…