When I was growing up my house was atrocious. To the point where someone called social services on my mom because she thought it was an unhealthy living environment. Because of this and the embarrassment I felt, I keep my house relatively clean. I hate clutter and constantly pick it up. I'm not a clean freak; I'll let dishes sit in the sink a couple of days and I'm not good at dusting or mopping on a regular basis, but I take out the trash and make sure everything is put away, keep the litter boxes clean, etc. It's as clean as I can get it. I live with my mom and she is still really messy but keeps her mess contained upstairs so I don't have to look at it. The only thing that bothers me is she doesn't clean up after herself when she's done cooking. She made something with Parmesan cheese and spilled cheese all over the counter and just left it there, even though she had off the next day and I didn't. I probably should have said something but she doesn't cook very often so it's not a regular mess.

When I'm super depressed I'm not as good at keeping up with things but I still tidy up because I just can't be like my mom and let our house fall into disgusting, unsanitary conditions again.