When I first read this in Cheryl Mendelson’s book Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House, I wasn’t sure I liked it. I love coming home, making home, being at home. But cleaning my home?

I had been pondering this concept for a few days, when the following happened: While helping me clean the windows, I heard one of my girls say I love this place as she scrubbed happily away. I think for her, especially being in a new place she is supposed to call home, taking care of it with her own little hands gave her a sense of belonging.

A sense of home.

The man thinks so too, although he explains it differently. Yes, I am married to one of those men who enjoys cleaning. Attention: I did not say he cleans. I said he enjoys cleaning. He is usually too busy hunting in the wild and bringing home the bacon to actually clean. But he recently spent some time at home alone and when I returned, the house was fresh: floors swept, counters wiped, things stacked in general neatness.

I looked at him when I walked in the door and this is what he said: “It’s been good to clean this afternoon. I feel like I’ve spent some time with the house and I’m getting to know it a bit.” I was so touched by his sentiment that I didn’t have the heart to correct him. Her, I said under my breath…you are getting to know HER a bit. I hope she wasn’t offended.

What about you? Do you find that the act of cleaning your house gives you a greater sense of home and comfort? I know that most people would say a clean house does this for them, but what about the actual act of cleaning it?