Every couple of days I get a flier on my door from a house cleaning service. You know the sort of thing, a picture of a house much, much nicer than yours and a menu of all the services they provide. I get a lot of fliers, but the house cleaning ones are the only ones spared from an immediate trip to the trash can. Those, I save. I place them carefully on the counter and then bide my time until Mia is napping or in bed. When I finally get those few, oh so few, precious minutes of solitude, I like to pull out my house cleaning fliers and read over them. I like to pretend that someone is going to come do those things to my house. Some of it is pretty mundane. You know, vacuum floors, change linens, dust mop hard floors. And then you get to things like dust blinds and picture frames. Wet wipe outside cabinets. Clean and disinfect showers and bathtubs. Totally hott.
I'm a little ashamed of my habit. I try to hide it from Chris - act like I just haven't made it to the trash yet or get rid of the evidence before he gets home from work. What it is, fundamentally, is housewife porn, and nobody likes to get caught admiring their porn.