This is pretty bad, but not far from typical. I could have done a slide show of the rest of the house, with close-ups of the floor and unfolded laundry on the kitchen table, but that would be depressing. For me, at least. For you, it would probably be quite edifying.
It's embarrassing. Truly embarrassing. Which is why I feel the urge to post it on my blog for all the world to see. Because I make sense like that.
Catholics go to confession.
Bloggers go to Google.
Anyway. Sigh. It is one of the most discouraging things in my life - the fact that I no longer have a nice, tidy, and clean smelling home. I try. I try hard. I can get it clean but it only stays clean about fifteen minutes. I’m concerned that I’ve become Domestically Impaired. My works are like filthy rags.
I would love to say it is the kids' fault. And it is true, they are amazingly, impressively unclean.
But, the truth is, I am just as messy because I’m no longer capable of completing a task from start to finish.
The problem is that it bothers me. When my house is like this my chest gets tight and my eyes squint and Mommy gets Grouchy.
It happens...a lot lately.
Maybe if I keep this up Matt will order me to hire a housekeeper every other week or maybe even every week. I think she should come every Friday and like Jesus, she’d wash away all my sin.
See how I can work a biblical analogy into that? I am So. Holy.