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Once upon a time...before I was married actually, I was a tidy person. I'm not admitting to being Martha Stewart or anything and I am not saying that I loved to clean, but I was tidy. Things were put away, dishes done, and surfaces dusted. It all changed once my husband and I started living together because I realized early on that I couldn't keep up.
My husband, as wonderful as he is in other areas, is a slob. It's like a 6'1'', 200 lb storm coming through any given area. After about a month of living together, I was just exhausted trying to pick up after him. In fact, for that month, all I did was chase around behind him, putting things where they should go. Then I stopped. I started again when we moved into the house about 6 years ago. I wanted to have someplace nice and livable, but then life kind of crept in and I stopped again. Three dogs, two kids, and endless racing seasons later, it's back to the same old, same old.
I'm sitting here at my dining room table, surveying three rooms of my tiny house feeling totally defeated. A while ago, I moved a lot of my son's toys up to his room. For some reason, his downstairs pile of toys just seems to be on the verge of taking over the living room again. I did dishes yesterday, yet there's a sink full right now. How did that happen? I tidied up and vacuumed last night, yet even before the vacuum was put away, my son was digging under the tv cabinet to pull out CD cases and legos.
I can't be totally free of blame. Instead of doing the new dishes, I'm writing my first blog. Instead of picking up the stuff off the living room floor last night, I brought my son up to bed and read him his favorite Curious George book twice.
I guess I've picked my battle in terms of tidiness...or rather not picked it...and should quit whining about it
I'm going to go put my oatmeal bowl in the sink, put the dogs out and get everyone else out of bed.
