My little house is a mess. It is. As much as I like to pretend that I'm organized I know, it's only in my head. Ya- that's right. Only my head is organized. My bare feet either pick up half the beach that was left on the kitchen floor by a little somebody or two emptying their shoes, OR they are sticking to what can only be the watermelon juice that was so joyfully spread upon the dining room floor last night. You can't bite into watermelon and not smile. Or drip. It's a rule in this house.
My kitchen counters, although wiped clean daily... bear large piles of papers, coupons, Aquafresh whitestrips that I got for free and can't bing myself to use, a big pottery bowl FULL to the bring with Lego man arms, my Leatherman, at least 5 nail clippers, pennies, a broken camera, bits of jewelry, lots of rocks that just HAD to come home and be our friends (and get tossed, like all our friends do, into a large pottery bowl?) The inside of the fridge is sticky and has the cardboard bottom of a RedBridge six pack glued to the top shelf from when the thing (I forget what it was... so it's "the thing") leaked all over that shelf and wet the bottom of the six pack, and then dried... and it's STILL there.
I don't even want to go into the wrongness that it is our bedroom. It's a wonder to me how we manage to "get down" with all the feng-shui nono's for lovin' going on in there. I'm pleading the 5th on the laundry situation too... 'nough said.
The whole point of me even talking about this is this. The ONLY time I ever care is when I know someone is coming. Then I'm like, SCRAMBLING to make our house presentable. Now, don't get me wrong... we would never qualify to be on that show with those two hilarious British ladies ( I forget what that show was) where they pick everything up and sniff it... no.. my house is CLEAN for the most part, it's just piled. Piled with books, piled with toys, papers, magazines, beach towels, shoes... you name it and it probably has a pile.
So... I have someone coming tomorrow. Someone who I know in my hearts of hearts isn't going to give a CRAP what my house looks like (right T?... right?.....) but I'm frantic. Because, well,,, I don't know why? She already knows I'm kooky- and eclectic ( I guess) so WHY do I do this? Why do I feel like people are not going to accept me if they see the rice on the floor under Iris's seat from last night (our theory about picking up rice is that it's impossible to do when it's still all mushy... so here's a tip from one mermaid to another- WAIT UNTIL IT DRIES UP and then just sweep it up!) see! there! I did it! I justified why we leave rice overnight, on the floor... and it makes sense right? Because I can't tell you how many times it took me to realize that rice is a bitch and a half to clean up, and it just leaves little rice "skid marks" when you DO manage to get it up, and those skid marks need to be MOPPED and for godsakes I'm NOT pulling out the mop after I just spent 10 minutes picking up grain after grain of rice. So there... THAT's just how we roll here at the Mermaids cove...
Okay- sorry... that was harsh. But seriously. WHY do we have to keep "clean" houses? Why can't we all just re-laaaaaaax a little and hang out a little longer with the weeks pile of newspapers and not get all huffy about it? WHY must we keep order? It's seriously a serious question I have. Because when it comes to a choice between spending an hour dusting or an hour reading some great adventure stories with Sage or whipping up a mushroom pineapple pie with Iris in her play kitchen, it's a no brainer. Pirates and Pineapples baby....