Seriously wondering if my super crappy vacuum cleaner is picking up any dirt or paper particles AT ALL. However, the vacuum marks on the carpet do make it look like I care…….which I do.
Once upon a time I scrubbed my floors at least once a week, vacuumed on my way out the door so it would look perfect when I returned home. I ironed practically every piece of cloth that went thru the washing machine and dryer. I wiped off each piece of silverware to remove water spots before placing it in the drawer with its perfectly matching companions. Those shiny plates under the stove burners, yeah. I could smile and wave back at myself in them.
Hahahaha. haha. ha.
Ahem. That is not to say I am unsanitary, ruthlessly tossing the health and well-being of my family to the wolves of disrepair. I’m simply saying what (I hope) many of you have already discovered. Life is messy. Husbands are messy. Kids are messy. Chickens are messy. As I type this from the comfort of an office chair there is a chicken in my bathtub. Did you hear me? I said, there is a CHICKEN in my BATHTUB. This I admit is a bit unsanitary but what else am I supposed to do at the last-minute with an injured chicken? That is why God make bleach and Pinesol.
Having a clean house makes me happy. Yet I have been forced to learn that I must not let a dirty house make me unhappy. Much easier said than done. I love my darling family in spite of the fact I am the only person in a half mile radius capable of throwing away opened envelopes, junk mail, water bottles, magazine subscription forms, used saran wrap, old receipts, gum wrappers, clothes tags, cracker boxes, empty milk cartons and toilet tissue tubes. Dishes that were clean at breakfast can magically fill 2 sinks by noon. Bits of dirt scatter the kitchen floor from Gus’ boots while tiny scraps of paper litter the living room, sacrifices from the Scrap Paper gods to Addie’s creativity. Smell checks, while scary, are completely necessary while folding laundry left unattended for more than 10 minutes. Who knows who needs to shed their clothes and toss them onto the first available surface, disregarding the fact that clean clothes belong on the bed and dirty clothes belong in the laundry room? We won’t even talk about my closet, I did that awhile back and I’m sad to say that with Christmas rapidly approaching it has fallen into even greater disarray. Much more of this and I’ll be forced to go to town naked. Well, maybe not, my pj’s are in the chest-of-drawers OUTSIDE the closet.
I’m kidding. I wouldn’t wear pj’s to town. I have yoga pants in the chest-of-drawers too.
But do you know the beauty of a messy house? For me, it means I have a husband at home. Great kids who spend their time with me, around me and yes, all up in my space. It means that while I may not be blessed with eons of time to clean I have been blessed with love and a house to share love in. One day there won’t be any size 9 cowboy boots tracking in dirt every day. One day the carpet will be spotless because my crafty little creature will be all grown up and moved away with a scrap paper pile and scissors all her own. One day I will probably be the only one opening the mail and I’ll promptly throw away each empty envelope. But it will be with a twinge of sadness. And on that day, I will miss my messy house full of love, full of people and full of life.
And now that I am totally depressed I’d encourage you to go and embrace your messy house too. One day, that messy house will be missed.