Want to start a fight? Ask about housework and the division of labor. For that matter, ask what housework means. Does gardening count? How about running a snow blower?

To settle the score, a new study from the University of Michigan examines how the housework burden is shared by women and men. The results: women still do much more than men, though men are getting better (actually, men were getting better until about 1985, and then stalled out). But the real news stood out like a streak of clean glass on a grimy window: nobody really cares that much about housework at all anymore. In 1965 women did 40 hours of housework a week, men a mere 12. Nowadays women are averaging 27 hours; men, closing the gap, average 16. That means housework has decreased even as average house size has ballooned.

None of this comes as a shock to Gale Zemel’s 73-year-old mother, Lita. She simply won’t visit her daughter–they go to mom’s place or meet at a restaurant. “The clutter drives her nuts,” said Gale, a 48-year-old office manager in Oak Park, Ill. “And it’s true, the place is a mess.”

For millions of Americans, it comes down to math. He works. She works. The kids need to be transported all over creation for soccer and piano lessons. People are too pooped to mop. “Who’s got time to clean?” says Hiromi Ono, an author of the report by the Institute for Social Research at Ann Arbor, Mich.

Each of the 6,000 people in the study–from the United States and around the world–kept a daily record of the work they did around the house, from sweeping the kitchen floor to changing the oil. As it turned out, American men were much more helpful than Japanese men (four hours a week), but slackers compared to the Swedes (24 hours a week).

When it comes to thankless chores, of course, everyone thinks they’re doing too much already and that their other half could be doing just a little bit more. “Every time my husband gets a raise,” one suburban Chicago woman bristles, “he starts throwing his clothes all over the floor.” Zemel’s husband, David Mausner, will tell you he’s a pretty helpful mate, a virtue he attributes to “having my consciousness raised in the ’70s by a succession of girlfriends.” Mausner says he’s setting tables, clearing them, washing dishes and fixing whatever needs fixing. “When there’s something that requires a tool, I’m the guy for the job.” His wife sees it somewhat differently. “He does the dishes. Period.”

Neither claims to be a fanatic about cleaning. Zemel acknowledges: “I don’t even know where the iron is.” Mausner says simply, “I guess I could do more.”

People are working hard–just not at hunting dust bunnies. The Michigan researchers credit a strong job market in the 1990s for the phenomenon they term “vanishing housework.” Women in their study averaged 24 hours of paid work outside the home, while men averaged 37. (For those keeping score, men total 53 combined hours of job and housework; women 51.)

Everybody is simply trying to do too much, says Cheryl Mendelson, the author of the surprise bestseller “Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House.” With families on the run, she says, the home has been reduced to a changing station, a pit-stop between wind sprints.

It’s a question of priorities, and some things matter more than others. For all the demands on their time, most parents are not shirking when it comes the kids. Another recent study from the University of Michigan found that most parents–working and stay-at-home–spend more time with the children than parents did 20 years ago. Linda Rufer, a doctor in suburban Milwaukee, said housecleaning ranked a distant second to taking her three children to the Wisconsin Dells last weekend. “Either the house is clean or I see my kids,” she said. “And as a pediatrician, it’s bad form not to see the kids.” For Rufer and plenty of others, the mess will be still there when they get home. The kids, on the other hand, grow up fast. And then they’ll be gone.