You know that saying, "Nobody on their deathbed will wish they had done more housework"? I live staunchly by it. There are other things I would rather invest my time in, and in the constant battle betwixt creativity and cleanliness, that latter is often neglected by the formers pleasure. So while my house is generally comparatively neat, and while I am perfectly capable of keeping on top of the clutter created by two rather messy individuals when I put my mind to it, I am prone by my inherent nature to cut corners.
These are my housewifely confessions. I'm coming clean, people. Brace yourselves.
I don't always completely dry my dishes. They have often been put away with substantial residue left on them.
It takes me an inexcusably long time to replace light bulbs and batteries. Like months.
I could vacuum more. I'll leave it at that.
There is an incredibly stale bag of opened marshmellows on the top shelf of my cupboard.
I've occasionally accidentally on purpose forgotten to do the dishes.
Our shoe closet is only clean when we have guests.
A few dark mornings, I have made the unpleasant discovery that I've forgotten to put away the leftovers.
I don't organize my washcloths when stacking them. I have a mosaic linen closet.
I haven't pulled out my stove and cleaned behind it since the fateful day we pushed it into place.
I don't use measurements when I cook: I wing it and believe.
I iron on the floor sometimes. Literally, I lay the garment on the floor and iron it.
I am a failure at saving receipts. As in I fail to save them at all.
Sometimes I neglect to properly cover the cheese.
Potentially important documents may or may not have fallen behind my fridge. I have yet to check.
I don't kill every spider I see.
I can't be hospitable on the weekend because my house is always at its possible messiest.
Sometimes it takes me too long to realize something has gone mouldy in the fridge.
There is a severity to my disorganization that only the dark depths of my closets know.
Incidentally, I have more than one junk drawer.
I've wasted eggs. Lots of eggs.
But my mirrors are always squeaky clean - mostly because I have thing with Windex - and an irrational fear of fire prevents me from ever leaving my candles unattended. I've prioritized, to point of being spasmodic, to have my pillow covers on straight. My decorative toilet paper basket is seldom empty and there is always a fresh pot of tea brewing on the stove. We all have our areas where we shine to the glory of God.
And the others? I will not judge if you leave them unconfessed.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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