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.
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