Here I am in my brokenness. The bare-naked, butt-ugly truth that is my mess.
I haven't seen the top of my desk since sometime in the Fall of 2009.
The basement is, as always, a disaster. I'm surprised we haven't lost any kids in there yet!
The laundry facilities. Not good, but they have been so much worse.
Our "shoe bench" that no one has ever been able to sit on, in the 2+ years we've had it. As you may have guessed from the pile of stuff in front of it, some days we are lucky to even get to it.
Our homeschooling shelves look nice and neat and organized...
...but good luck getting to them!
We haven't seen the kitchen countertop in at least a month.
The map that the kids keep knocking over and leaving on the floor. And the old picture frames that need new pictures and a home on the wall.
A basket of WHO KNOWS WHAT that has plagued various rooms in my house for the last 2? 3? years. (Victory note: I went through half of this basket with the help of my housekeeper, and found the title and lien release to my husband's car which has been lost for... 3 years?)
My dining room table, which is almost never clean to eat on.
The hallway that is almost always littered with something. Or many things.
The pathway to my bedroom, littered with toys.
The countertop in what used to be my husband's bathroom (off his computer room). It should now be my kids' bathroom. If only their lazy (overwhelmed) parents would get their crap outta there!
The usual state of the kitchen sink. Although the dishwasher runs 1-3 times per day here, we are perpetually 1-2 loads behind.
The cluttered cookbook corner.
More lost kitchen countertops.
The inside of my bathroom cabinet, which has been 1/3 emptied by a little monkey who left its other contents all over my bathroom floor.
Two boxes of random crap that I cleaned up from the bathroom counter & floor. Oh how I wish I was one of those people who could just dump the contents into the trash instead of having to go through them all!
My bed. In my defense, I usually do try to keep it cleaned off, and this particular day was using it as a staging area to bag up things we're not currently using like outgrown kid clothes and maternity clothes. (Yes, my baby is 13 months old and I have not put away the maternity clothes yet.)
My bedroom floor. I can barely move around in here.
If you were to go upstairs in my house, you might think I was a collector of porcelain shoes. However, if you were to ask me about them, you'd find out the truth. The collection belonged to my grandmother. They were very special to her. I ended up with them and feel too guilty about keeping them around, but also too guilty to let them go.
The banister top, which in theory should contain nothing. (Yes that is toddler art on my wall. From the 2nd toddler. It's been there at least 2 years.)
A box of random junk just inside my bedroom door.
The nightmare that is my closet.
The bathroom countertop, after I cleaned 2/3 of the stuff off of it.
So... now you can see why I'm at the end of my rope. Yet, I still struggle mightily with throwing anything away. Even though I am reasonably certain there is peace on the other side. (There is, isn't there?)
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