Mess

"Come in. Sit down. Relax. Converse. My house doesn't always look like this. Sometimes it's even worse." ~my mom's refrigerator magnet from 1971

I've just taken a good look around my house and have declared it a disaster area. I'm surprised the Governor of Massachusetts hasn't been called in to make it official. There are dust balls under the furniture, the windows are dirty, everyone's laundry is spilling over out of the hampers. The tidy piles I make of newspapers and catalogs and mail are not so much piles as they are misshapen blobs. While I wouldn't say my house is dirty in the same way that say, the Greyhound Bus station is dirty, I'm mortified when someone comes over, embarrassed at the boxes in the dining room (my new furniture hasn't arrived yet) and at the dog hair embedded in the carpeted stairs. None of the pictures went back up on the walls after they were painted TWO MONTHS AGO. The kitchen floor isn't looking too hot either.
At times like this I get aggravated at everyone who lives in this house, including me.  I berate myself for not being one of those parents who made their kids do chores. I never even made them clean their rooms. I'll tell you why. I'm impatient. I can't wait for things to be done. I can do things faster and more efficiently than my husband or my kids. In the years I didn't work, or only worked part-time it was never an issue. After everyone left the house I could clean with no one in my way. Ah,I miss those days. Sort of.
I've been thinking about why my house is in such a state. I promised I'd tell the truth, so here it is: I don't want to clean every minute of my life. I want to watch The Apprentice. I want to sing songs from West Side Story to Cliff and make him laugh. I need a nap. If I'm cleaning, I'm not exercising, or reading a book or talking to my kids. If my house is all clean all the time, I'm not living. When am I supposed to have my tea?
I suppose if things get really bad, I can always hire The Maids to clean the house for me. But that means they'll come in my house and see that it's not clean. So before they come over I'll have to clean up. Oh what the hell. If you come over don't expect perfection. We can have coffee and a few laughs. Just don't give me the white glove test and everything will be just fine.