My husband made an interesting observation recently when he said he thought our house was cleaner on the weekends that I wrote a column for the Butler Eagle.

Puzzled by his comment, I wondered why, with the additional task of writing, he thought our house more orderly than when I had less to do.

He made the comment late on a Sunday afternoon, after I'd spent the better part of the weekend tidying up. That's my usual Saturday/Sunday routine, because Monday through Friday my household chores are limited to stopping at the grocery store on my way home from work, fixing dinner and feeding the dog.

After that, I'm too tired for anything else.

On weekends, though, I work around my house, cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills, and running errands that can't be done during the week. In addition, I like to prepare meals that can be easily reheated after I get home from work.

Every other weekend, though, writing a column for the upcoming Sunday edition of the newspaper gets added to my "to do" list. Generally, I spend Saturday ruminating about a subject and Sunday writing.

And it was during a "writing" weekend that my husband said our house seems to get an extra good cleaning.

"Have you started your column yet?" he asked as we ate breakfast last Sunday.

"Not yet," I replied. "I have my idea, but there are a few more house things I want to do first."

Although I had completed my regular housework, I still had to pack away summer clothes and wash my daughter's bed sheets, as she would be spending her first weekend at home since leaving for college almost two months ago.

By late Sunday afternoon, the summer clothes were packed away and my daughter's room was in order. But instead of settling down to write, I decided to tackle the long overdue task of cleaning out the refrigerator.

It was there that my husband found me — standing in front of an emptied out refrigerator, scraping crud from the shelves with a paring knife —and commented on my propensity for cleaning, especially when I had writing to do.

"The refrigerator really needed cleaning," I explained defensively, waving my hand at a row of plastic containers stacked on the kitchen counter.

"If you would do this, I wouldn't have to," I added, turning the conversation away from my procrastination and toward his unwillingness to help with the more unpleasant household chores.

With no offer of help from him, I finished cleaning the refrigerator. And as the late afternoon streamed through the office window, I settled down at my desk to write, a cup of tea by my side and my favorite music playing in the background. With my house clean, I felt ready to tackle the task ahead.

It was then that I saw how the setting sun revealed a thin layer of dust on the dark wooden desk.

Quickly I hurried to the kitchen to find the Endust.

Linda K. Schmitmeyer is a freelance writer living in Middlesex Township. Her e-mail address is lks260@zoominternet.net.