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The cleanest room in the house--the guest bedroom.

If you want to know how clean a woman's house is, just look inside her microwave.  My guess is that you'll find splatters of hardened SpaghettiO's or possibly the remains of an exploded hot dog.  Don't let her spotless kitchen counters fool you.  You can bet that there are dirty cookie sheets in her cabinets.  Also, check the top of the refrigerator and the back corner of her closet where she hides her latest purchases. 

Unless you are anal retentive or obsessive compulsive about the cleanliness of your home, there are parts of your house that you just never bother to clean.  Cleaning, for the most part, is something that we do for other people, not necessarily for ourselves. 

The truth?  Personally, I think we don't want other people to think that we're dirty or that we are anything short of being as domestic as Martha Stewart.  It's hard enough just to keep ourselves and our children clean.  Heaven forbid people think we have dirty children and a dirty house! 

However, there are always times when we all suddenly feel compelled to clean for cleaning sake.  It's almost instinctive.  For me, "spring cleaning" doesn't happen just in the spring.  The spring cleaning bug always hits to me whenever I start getting out or putting away the winter clothes.  I take great care packing away our sweater and wool pants, sliding them under the bed for another season.  Just the other day when I pulled them out to make the bi-yearly clothing exchange, I noticed right away how dirty the baseboards were.  I suddenly felt disgusting, like I'd been living as an uncivilized, unwashed deadbeat for the last six months.  Before long, I was in an all out cleaning frenzy. 

Piles of junk that have sat around for months were thrown into the trash without another thought.  Picture frames were dusted, toilets were scrubbed from top to bottom, and all of the extra vacuum attachments actually got used.  The Super Bug had no chance of surviving once I got started disinfecting. 

Forget going to the gym.  Hardcore cleaning is all the workout I need.  Wringing out mops, pushing vacuum cleaners, scrubbing on all fours--who needs an expensive Pilates class when you've working your muscles like Mr. Clean.   

Once everything was clean the other day, there was an actual moment of satisfaction--a moment when everything was right with the world, and for a brief moment, spotless.  That was, until my children came home from the park and ruined everything, making me wonder why I went to so much trouble in the first place.