To clean or not to clean?

I have to be honest with you about something. My house is dirty. I mean, it needs some major overhaul work with some Comet, the Scrubbing Bubbles team, and Mr. Clean. I don't think my mop and broom would call and serenade me with random seventies songs because, baby, they wouldn't WANT to come back.

Living with two dogs is part of the problem. As much as I love the babies, they are furry and collect and cause more dust bunnies than I have ever seen. Also my house was built, oh, more than half a century ago. Evidently they're harder to keep clean. Or maybe I'm just making excuses because I'm not one of those women for whom cleaning is their drug of choice. Unfortunately for me, my husband is not a neat freak either. He does clean floors, which is helpful when he decides that he needs them to be clean (once every six months), but for every day stuff? Yeah, our house could be filled with trash and mud and he'd just ignore it - of THAT I am certain.

So this past weekend, I looked around (this was after Jake had stomach problems that didn't make it outside) and burst into tears. Yeah there were water works. A LOT. And wailing and gnashing of teeth. I screamed that I WORKED ALL THE TIME and DIDN'T HAVE TIME OR THE ENERGY TO CLEAN THE *$!(#! house. NOW you see why I need prayer? In all honesty though, I am at work until 5:30 or 6 every night. I do have every other Friday off, but sometimes I still have to go in and work and usually spend the rest of the day running errands. Or sleeping off the past two weeks of work. I will admit it. I nap on my day off. Sue me.

I called a maid service today. They do spring cleaning. It will cost me $150 for them to come and spring clean my house. I said, please come. Then I called my husband, who gave a sound in the back of his throat when I mentioned the cost - like I had caused him an early heart attack. Or did something to his gall bladder. Of course that irritated me like no other. I can't even begin to explain the anger rushing through my system when he didn't just immediately choke back his sighs and huffs and just support my need for a spring clean. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. Is that normal for a wife to feel that way? Or am I hormonal? Or am I just a working wife that can't do it all? Is that normal, too? Or am I just a whiner? Or a little of all the above?

Anyway, should I get the cleaning service in? It's bad, ya'll. Real bad. Obviously.