I'm messy. No... that's not the word I'd use- that word seems too kind, or dare I say dismissive. I am a slob. An absolute terrible mess. I live in fear that someone will knock at my door and expect to come in and yet, I would love to have company. This is only a fraction of what my house looks like... and the picture is rather tame compared to what lies in the kitchen!

Just clean it up, people would say... and believe me, I've tried! I clean and scrub and clean and scrub! And it never seems to go away. Take it just an hour a day, well meaning friends advise. An hour a day... I do that and turn around and all of my progress from the day before is undone! I feel completely overwhelmed. But here's the bad part- I don't have kids. It's just me and my husband in our home. That and dogs, which make up a lot of the golden tumble weeds that blow across my floors. I don't have a job and even complain of boredom. I don't have an excuse as to why on earth my home is so dirty and messy.

How is it okay for me to live like this? Why is it okay for my husband to live like this? I'm confused. My mother wasn't a neat freak- but she yelled at us constantly if we didn't do our chores. Could that be it? I don't know. It seems a bit arbitrary to blame someone else, doesn't it? This is my mess.

Am I lazy? I don't want to be! I want to get up and clean... I just... don't. And then, it piles up and up and up. When do I get my episode of hoarders? I don't mean to be so cavalier about a serious mental illness such as hoarding, but is this the beginning of that type of life?

I don't know why I am writing this or showing you pictures of my biggest shame. Once upon a time, I thought it was just a bit of creative chaos. Then, I chuckled about it. Now, I'm disgusted but it borderlines on apathy. What in the world is wrong with me?