I’ll be honest: I’m a secret mess-maker. It’s not just my kitchen that suffers; my bedroom and bathroom are equally guilty of chaos. If faced with the option of a spotless home or a scene straight out of a reality show about clutter, I’d definitely choose cleanliness—provided I don’t have to lift a finger to achieve it.
Now, let’s clarify: I’m not filthy. I’d love to shower twice daily if time allowed. The thought of germs lurking in public spaces drives me nuts, and I practically hyperventilate when my kids try to enter the house with muddy shoes. Just getting a stain on my shirt during lunch can send me into a tailspin, and I’ll spend the rest of the day awkwardly covering it up as if I’m trying to hide a secret.
The truth is, cleaning feels like a pointless task. No matter how much I scrub, things just get messy again—over and over. If I had the means and a carefree attitude towards waste, I’d toss out dirty dishes and clothes without a second thought, replacing them with fresh ones. I wouldn’t keep a single scrap of paper, and I’d snap pictures of my kids’ school projects only to toss them without guilt (if I didn’t fear the therapy costs later).
Occasionally, a friend will tell me how therapeutic she finds cleaning. “It’s so calming!” she’ll exclaim. I can’t help but wonder if she’s on something more than just cleaning supplies. Is that a strong-smelling cleaner I detect?
My husband is probably the most let down by my messy ways. Looking back, I may have oversold my organizational skills while we were dating. “I’m super organized!” he likely bragged over dinner. “Oh, me too!” I may have replied, fully aware that it was a complete fib. My household abilities, if they were to be put on a resume, would be as exaggerated as my old marketing claims. I mix laundry colors like a pro, use a dust buster for crumbs on the dining table, and let sheets go unwashed for weeks. My dresser drawers are perpetually ajar from cramming clothes in, and I haven’t touched a mop in seven years.
I often worry that without the occasional motivating factor of house guests, my home would resemble a cluttered indoor garage sale. My desire to keep my messy tendencies a secret is so strong that I’ve resorted to hiring someone to tackle the cleaning for me.
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In summary, I’m a proud mess-maker who prefers to keep my chaos hidden. While I admire those who find peace in cleaning, I’ll stick to my secret strategy of hiring help to maintain some semblance of order.