I’m sure this will either sound like backpedalling or denial or just undermine any credibility I had in saying I’m not a psycho (mostly), but I just have to (not condescendingly!) LOL at the idea of me being a clean freak. My house is crammed to the rafters with people and I am insanely short on time for all the things every single day. My bedroom is a fucking disaster right now. Not like a, “Oh, I didn’t make the bed and it is triggering my OCD” disaster, but like a “I can shut this door and not look at crap, and when I’m in here it’s dark and my eyes are closed, so things that aren’t done being sorted/put away can go in here” disaster. We keep the linens for our bed in a cedar chest, and the cedar chest has a drawer in the bottom that’s too small and inconvenient to use for almost anything. So I stick socks in there after the laundry, to be sorted later. Right now, that drawer, with its couple dozen odd socks, is pulled out and on top of the cedar chest. On top of that is a laundry basket with all the stuff that needed to go “upstairs” as I cleaned the living room the other day. Other day as in, Saturday, I think. Also on that chest is at least one, but I think 2, of the “organizer (
)” bins that are supposed to be in the hall closet, containing makeup and toiletries. There’s probably a stack of books there, too. Next to the chest is an armchair. I cleaned it off this weekend (it was holding a tangle of hangers and a bunch of winter coats that were going to storage, and had held those for…IDK, a week or two) but now it’s piled up again. I could guess at what’s in it, but I don’t actually know. Probably more laundry.
DH’s side of our bedroom pisses me off, so I don’t know what’s over there, beyond “all his clean clothes” and a bunch of other clothes that aren’t clean.
I couldn’t find my debit card yesterday, so I emptied my giant shoulder bag all over the temporarily cleared off dining room table. This morning I put back everything that actually belongs in the bad, and…left the other stuff on the table when I went to work. I may or may not get to all that stuff tonight. If I don’t—even if I do
—it will very likely end up in another laundry basket of “stuff to put away when I have time” and get carried up to The Heap.
I don’t sweep or mop the kitchen every day. Like, “not every day” is a HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE understatement. That floor is kind of gross and sticky as often as not. More often than not.
I wipe spots, if I spill things. Mostly.
There’s a partial preschooler-sized handprint of something…could be jelly? IDK, maybe nutella? …on the wall in my living room. I keep walking by it, registering it momentarily, and thinking “I should get that. Or maybe ask/tell/make [someone] get it.” And then some other fire breaks out, and I don’t and no one does. I think it’s been there going on a week.
Vacuuming the couch & chair is a necessity. Deirdre does a lot of crafts, and the kids are allowed to snack in the living room. Because we don't have an EIK or a family room, and the dining room table is usually covered with mail and crap.