I do this, and to a degree always have... My first house, I lived in isolation most of the time and usually fell asleep drinking bartons with fast food trash strewn half-assed wherever it fit -- coffee table, chair arms, floor...
My dad was one of those narcicistic/schizophrenic/abusive types, and he put so much pressure on appearance for other people that when I'm alone (even now) I feel like I can decompress all the worry by just ignoring it. If people are coming over, holy shit I am so humiliated I clean in a rush last minute to make things presentable. It's been easier to stay on top of things now that I have a daughter of my own, but damn is it a struggle. I actually turned to meth (working myself to shit with a toddler, 15 hrs of classes, and playing 50's hosuewife) after months of passive agressive bullshit from an unagreeable and domineering mother-in-law. Looking back, it feels like I was just trying to fight off the looming episode of depression...
I definitely care, but life does feel forced most of the time and it takes too much energy. Here's my resume' : MDD, GAD, C-PTSD, ADD (inattentive, haha fml)