My Dirty Little Secret

There is something you don’t know about me.  Only a select few do….and now I’m about to admit my secret to the world in indelible ink.

Oh, this is painful…but they say the first step to healing is admitting you have a problem.

Here goes…

I'm a slob.

Ouch.  It looks awful in writing.

I’m honestly not sure how I got here.

When my kids were teenagers, our house could definitely get messy.  There were musical instruments to trip over, mountains of shoes by the door, school books and papers strewn about.  My sewing machine lived on the dining room table and the kitchen island was perpetually covered in projects.  But one knock on the door and the three of us would spring into action.  We could have everything hidden in the laundry room in a matter of minutes.  And if we didn't move fast enough, I could always blame the mess on them.

Now there is no one to blame but me.

I hate that.

I'm actually pretty amazed that I can mess the entire house up all by myself. I didn't know it was possible.

The sad thing is, it's starting to bother me less.  And that bothers me.

In the past couple of weeks, I have willingly asked friends to swing by my house and let my dog out, being fully aware there is a train wreck waiting behind the front door.  In years past, I would have let Daisy spend the afternoon with her legs crossed before I would let anybody witness my messiness. 

One sweet friend left flowers when she came over.  I found them sitting on the counter surrounded by dirty dishes. The dichotomy was kind of nauseating.

I'm thinking that was a turning point for me.  I don't want to be that girl.  So I've decided to turn over a new leaf, make some new commitments, turn from my slovenly ways...

 ...I will wash the dishes when I run out of bowls and spoons.  I refuse to continue eating ice cream with forks..

 ...I'm going to do the laundry before I run out of clean clothes and towels.  No more scavenging through my garage sale pile or drying off with a hand towel.

...I will find my bedroom floor every Saturday. 

...I promise to make my bed more than once a week.  Okay, at least once a week.

...I will attempt to clean the laundry room so there is more room to hide stuff.

...I will clean out the refrigerator and I will spare you the details.

See?  I'm making a good start.  No need to organize an intervention.  Or a cleaning party.  

Besides, I have to get back on the ball.  My daughter is coming in June and my mom is coming in July.  I couldn't bare to let them see how far I've fallen.

And if you decide to drop by before then, do me favor?

Call first.