For every one outfit you wear there are at least three that end up lying on the floor.
Your kitchen counter is littered with trash even though the garbage can is only a few feet away.
Your shoes are randomly strewn about the house while the shoe rack in your closet is perpetually empty.
You leave junk mail sitting on the kitchen table for weeks instead of throwing it away.
You only do dishes when you run out of forks (which is about once a week around my house).
Oh and just for the record, I am a messy person. A very messy person.
Surprisingly enough, my husband knew this about me before we got married (and he married me anyway, now what does that tell you???). Most people don’t find out how truly messy their spouse is until after they say “I do,” but not here. A few months before we got married, I took a picture of my dorm room at its worst and sent it to Evan with a caption that read, “this is what you are getting into.” I felt that it was best that he have fair warning before committing his life to a slob. Of course, I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t told him, my mom would have. It used to drive her crazy that my room was always a disaster. I also had this bad habit of collecting plastic cups. I’d get a drink and take it to my bedroom. Then later I’d get thirsty and go to the kitchen and get a new cup and take it to my bedroom. I did this, several times a day, until we ran out of cups. I’m pretty sure she hated it! But then who can blame her. Nobody likes a messy person.
In fact, I don’t like being messy. It drives me crazy. The problem is I don’t think about the mess until after it’s out of control. I leave things lying around, not because I’m lazy (well, I might be a little lazy), but because I just don’t think about the consequences. It’s not a big deal to leave the mail lying on the table, unless you just keep adding to the pile and you forget to pay the water bill. It’s not a big deal to leave the dishes sitting in the sink, unless you never actually get around to washing them and you have to eat your pancakes with a spoon.
I do try to keep things picked up. I know my husband appreciates a clean and organized house, so I do my best. I’m old enough now to realize that if I clean a little everyday things don’t get so out of control, but sometimes, like today, I look around and realize that we’ve hit crisis point. It doesn’t get this way often, but when it does a little bit of picking up won’t get the job done. I need to break down and clean, like a getting-the-vacuum-out kind of clean. Now that is a truly an unpleasant thought!
Maybe I need to go on the Biggest Loser. Not for weight loss (although if I could lose 10 pounds in one week I would definitely consider it). I want to go a cleaning version of Biggest Loser for compulsively messy people. I think I would be more motivated to clean if Bob Harper was in my living room shouting at me to get off my behind and start mopping. Of course, then I would start crying because cleaning brings back terrible memories from my childhood, and Bob and I would have a heart-to-heart about my deep emotional need to be messy. Or maybe he would just state the obvious. I am just too lazy to be organized.
When I started this post I was going to end with a pretty cool analogy about how laziness in our spiritual lives makes a sin mess just like laziness at home makes my house a mess, but I’m pretty sure my husband is doing the dishes, and I feel guilty for blogging while he’s cleaning. Have I ever told you I married an amazing man? Simply Amazing.