My house is messy. It is MESS-Y. There may be some moments where it is “picked up” or freshly mopped wedged somewhere in between the moments of too much crap on the table to see the counter and oh my goodness please don’t step in the urine on the floor over there times. Yah, I do bust out a sponge and something that comes out of a spray bottle and smells nice from time to time. I don’t like odors, so if I ever detect one I am the sleuth of all sleuths, on the case from sun up ’till sundown until said smell is hunted down, killed (if necessary), and conquered. Ah yes, the smell of freshness where there once was only decay and rancid fumes is a very good thing.
Alas, back to my point. Lately, I have found that my girls are secretly running science experiments throughout our house. Cultures are growing, and the results are less than positive. Oh yes, the old sippy cup left under the couch, sippy cup left behind the bookshelf, sippy cup left out in plain sight but mommy forgot to clean it 2 days ago routine. Normally, this is a slightly gross undertaking to clean, but not too big of a deal. Unfortunately, with no central air, 70% plus humidity and 80 to 90 degree temps lately, these findings have gone from unpleasant to downright vomilicious (while not a word YET, worthy of usage. that which could cause one to have the desire to, urge to or need to vomit could be characterized as being “vomilicious”). Hey, if Beyoncé can add “licious” to a pet name for butt, write a ditty about it and make millions, I’m at least gonna try to rock it. Okay, back to the cups. Seriously, I don’t know what stage of the dairy product making process we are achieving, but things are definitely not in a liquid form when found. And the smell…um…there are no words.
So, after finding these sippy cups on a daily basis for a while I have realized that I can no longer hide or go incognito as one of those women who has a clean home. I don’t enjoy cleaning, don’t feel more “centered” in a clean house, and don’t get antsy from looking at clutter. I truly am clueless and unphased. If you come over to my house unannounced, it will be messy, but I will gladly welcome you to join our chaos. Just don’t open a sippy cup if you find one on the ground. If you are someone who manages to keep a clean home (and it totally doesn’t count if you pay someone to do it. nothing wrong with it, it’s actually quite fabulous, but it just means i don’t have to feel guilty at all when i’m in your home) mad props to you. I actually love being in your home and am often inspired to change some things around my own. And yet, I have knick knacks, piles, and stacks. And life is too short for me to really care. I will try to get better at putting things away after I use them, since I obviously still haven’t mastered that after 30 years, and will hunt down those cups throughout the day to avoid any health hazards. But really, I am going to just accept that this is part of who I am and forcing myself to be like “so and so” or meet some crazy standard is a total waste of my time.
It’s late, my house is still a mess, and you know what? I’m going to bed. And I think I’ll actually sleep better knowing that my house, just like its mistress, is far from perfect, definitely not in order, and could probably use a good deep clean.