People come over my house and comment on how neat and organized I am. I shrug my shoulders because in my neurotic and anxiety ridden mind I am not either of those things. Now I am probably neater than most but my home certainly does not look like the ones on home decorating sites. Most days I'm totally faking it.
The bed gets made everyday. Well at least it looks like it is. It hasn't really been made since Frank was born. I I basically just pull all the covers up and make sure the untucked sheet isn't peeking out from underneath the comforter.
The laundry takes weeks to do. More than once I had to wash the clothes again because I left them damp in the washing machine and they smelled all moldy. And yes I have run the same clothes in the dryer twice because I didn't take them out the first time and they got all wrinkly. When company comes over the clean basket of laundry that has been there for days sometimes gets thrown in the closet.
My floors are clean for the most part. But please don't look under the bed or the TV console or the end tables. There is enough shredded fur from the cats and dust bunnies, I could have a whole litter of dirt kittens.
I have numerous catch-alls throughout the house. There is a basket by the door. There are nightstand draws and plastic containers in closets. All of these are tangled messes of phone chargers, sunglasses, screw drivers, and other odds and ends. My stainless steel appliances often have the finger prints wiped off them with my the shirt sleeve that got wet washing dishes.
No comments:
Post a Comment