Once in a while, you designate a big cleaning day, often preceded by the arrival of company, and wake up determined to tell the house that you mean business.

It’s the kind of cleaning that involves dusting under beds, wiping down your floorboards, spying on the dark corners in closets to arrest the dust bunnies, and washing every blanket in use. After it was all over, as if reflecting on a D-Day invasion, I realized that housework is never done.

My husband walked in at the end, of course, and said, “This looks like a model home.”

“Well, maybe on the surface, but don’t look at the windows or on top of tall furniture.”

He thought I was being humble, but I’m right. There are endless tasks still to be started. This place is never going to be as clean as you see in commercials or fake TV homes because I refuse to clean every day.

I have a life.

It’s true that you could get up every day and have enough to do around the house to make it a full-time job. I love the idea in theory. Imagine how organized you’d be! Imagine a place for everything and everything in its place. Imagine clean junk drawers, counters devoid of old mail, all your bills arranged neatly in a filing cabinet, gleaming floors, shiny surfaces, and spotless windows.

But that is a mountain you’d be climbing every day, and sadder yet, no one would pay you. We’ve all walked into truly organized homes where things just seem to function with an ease nothing short of magical, and we just figure those people have a cleaning lady.

When I’m madly cleaning, I imagine Buckingham Palace and all the other royal residences being tended to every day by a staff of hundreds. Buckingham Palace is big. Imagine a single residence with 775 bedrooms, 78 bathrooms, 92 offices, 19 different staterooms, 760 windows, and 350 clocks, and you get an idea of how big that palace actually is.

I can’t imagine for the life of me why any house would need 775 bedrooms, unless you’re inviting the Royal Army in for sleepovers, but nevertheless, it is said that the palace is dust-free. That’s because there’s a cleaning staff of 800. The cleaners work hard: the Palace has a reputation for being remarkably free of dust. Despite its titanic size, the Royal Army of cleaners quickly removes any dust before it is allowed to settle.

When I read that the 760 windows in the palace are cleaned every six weeks, I realized what a slacker I am. But here’s a fascinating fact: cleaning staff is not allowed to use vacuum cleaners. They’re too noisy for royal ears, so the staff must sweep all the floors and carpets. Considering a full-time cleaner only gets paid 17,000 euros a year for their services, sweeping carpets day after day until they’re clean seems like a pittance. They do get to live in the palace, though, and are entitled to 33 days off a year.

A lot of people I know have cleaning people. My daughter, for instance, has a cleaning lady. Never before did I understand what a very different generation my children belong to. It never occurred to me to hire a cleaning lady in my 30s because there simply wasn’t money for one, and my generation tended to clean their own homes. I am still cleaning my own home and will die with a dusting cloth in one hand and a Swiffer in the other.

“Why did you hire a cleaning lady?” I wanted to know. There are not yet children in the house, and both she and her husband work a lot. Who is there to mess it up?

The Millennials don’t like to clean; they have better ways to spend their time than scrubbing toilets, and as smug as I may sound, I do understand the wisdom behind it. Why not free up your time for yoga or a good series on Netflix? Why does life have to be all work and no play? You can choose to live a more carefree and interesting life if you want to.

But I just don’t have it in me. Beyond hiring someone to help with special jobs, having someone clean my house on a regular basis would feel strange to me. I come from a long line of women who made proper meals every single night of the week, cleaned their own homes, had careers, and were devoted to family life. It may have skipped a generation here and there, but I am firmly in the “do it all” camp. Even if I won a million dollars, I don’t think I will ever change. It’s too late for that. By Margot Russell

Once in a while, you designate a big cleaning day, often preceded by the arrival of company, and wake up determined to tell the house that you mean business.

It’s the kind of cleaning that involves dusting under beds, wiping down your floorboards, spying on the dark corners in closets to arrest the dust bunnies, and washing every blanket in use. After it was all over, as if reflecting on a D-Day invasion, I realized that housework is never done.

My husband walked in at the end, of course, and said, “This looks like a model home.”

“Well, maybe on the surface, but don’t look at the windows or on top of tall furniture.”

He thought I was being humble, but I’m right. There are endless tasks still to be started. This place is never going to be as clean as you see in commercials or fake TV homes because I refuse to clean every day.

I have a life.

It’s true that you could get up every day and have enough to do around the house to make it a full-time job. I love the idea in theory. Imagine how organized you’d be! Imagine a place for everything and everything in its place. Imagine clean junk drawers, counters devoid of old mail, all your bills arranged neatly in a filing cabinet, gleaming floors, shiny surfaces, and spotless windows.

But that is a mountain you’d be climbing every day, and sadder yet, no one would pay you. We’ve all walked into truly organized homes where things just seem to function with an ease nothing short of magical, and we just figure those people have a cleaning lady.

When I’m madly cleaning, I imagine Buckingham Palace and all the other royal residences being tended to every day by a staff of hundreds. Buckingham Palace is big. Imagine a single residence with 775 bedrooms, 78 bathrooms, 92 offices, 19 different staterooms, 760 windows, and 350 clocks, and you get an idea of how big that palace actually is.

I can’t imagine for the life of me why any house would need 775 bedrooms, unless you’re inviting the Royal Army in for sleepovers, but nevertheless, it is said that the palace is dust-free. That’s because there’s a cleaning staff of 800. The cleaners work hard: the Palace has a reputation for being remarkably free of dust. Despite its titanic size, the Royal Army of cleaners quickly removes any dust before it is allowed to settle.

When I read that the 760 windows in the palace are cleaned every six weeks, I realized what a slacker I am. But here’s a fascinating fact: cleaning staff is not allowed to use vacuum cleaners. They’re too noisy for royal ears, so the staff must sweep all the floors and carpets. Considering a full-time cleaner only gets paid 17,000 euros a year for their services, sweeping carpets day after day until they’re clean seems like a pittance. They do get to live in the palace, though, and are entitled to 33 days off a year.

A lot of people I know have cleaning people. My daughter, for instance, has a cleaning lady. Never before did I understand what a very different generation my children belong to. It never occurred to me to hire a cleaning lady in my 30s because there simply wasn’t money for one, and my generation tended to clean their own homes. I am still cleaning my own home and will die with a dusting cloth in one hand and a Swiffer in the other.

“Why did you hire a cleaning lady?” I wanted to know. There are not yet children in the house, and both she and her husband work a lot. Who is there to mess it up?

The Millennials don’t like to clean; they have better ways to spend their time than scrubbing toilets, and as smug as I may sound, I do understand the wisdom behind it. Why not free up your time for yoga or a good series on Netflix? Why does life have to be all work and no play? You can choose to live a more carefree and interesting life if you want to.

But I just don’t have it in me. Beyond hiring someone to help with special jobs, having someone clean my house on a regular basis would feel strange to me. I come from a long line of women who made proper meals every single night of the week, cleaned their own homes, had careers, and were devoted to family life. It may have skipped a generation here and there, but I am firmly in the “do it all” camp. Even if I won a million dollars, I don’t think I will ever change. It’s too late for that.

And yoga. It’s too late for that too.