About a week or so ago, I asked Dear NSA if it knew what had happened to the charger for the Fitbit, since I couldn't find it anywhere, and then two days ago I discovered that it was what had made the Roomba stop working. Two weeks ago.

That's right, I am currently failing at even robot based cleaning.

My house is in a state of disarray due to a bathroom remodel (so stuff that is usually found in my bathroom is instead scattered all over the house). And it's not good for me. The way some are used to clutter/mess and (maybe?) have anxiety about clearing it up? I am of the opposite in that I crave order and cleanliness and and am most happy with surfaces being free of stuff and all floors sparkling. So I am feeling quite out of order!

I was raised in a small, gross apartment with literally no seating other than the very large and ugly dining room and chairs set that took up most of the "living room." We did not have any place for any of us to sit comfortably, as that was not a priority. And it was always a near-hoarder level of mess and filth. But my bedroom was usually immaculate and cozy and I would make my friends enter the apartment with their eyes covered and would lead them to my bedroom.

I am pretty sure that disgusting apartment without a couch or comfortable chair or anything else is what directly influences my priorities now. I take joy in offering a clean, comfortable space for my friends to gather. My tendencies to be sentimental and keep everything that reminds me of something lovely is always battling with my need to have clear lines and clean surfaces.

Have any of you read anything by Sara Benincasa? I'm reading "Agorafabulous! Dispatches From My Bedroom" right now. It's not particularly fun to read (even though she writes very humorously) but it's giving me a good window into what folks who suffer through intense anxiety live through. I don't think I had any idea. I have been thinking about some of you while I read it, and wondering if you can relate. I am about 30% through the book.

Our old house (the one we tore down in 1980) was so messy I couldn't have friends over--because my mom was too depressed to clean and my dad was always working 16 hour days as a farmer so he didn't clean either.

Once our only toilet was just constantly overflowing for a few weeks, to the point where mushrooms started growing on the bathroom floor. I think my dad didn't fix it right away because he was passive-aggresively getting back at my mom for not doing any cooking or cleaning. (He'd always be saying he was too busy to fix stuff because he had to do mom's work too.)

Oh, my heart breaks for your mother, tommyrot.

I'm really quite grateful that it matters so little to me anymore. If I can keep things in order I will, but if they aren't that's okay too. Much less stressful! I heard my mom say a number of times that she thought her kids would remember the things we did together more than the condition of her floors. There are a whole lot of things that matter more than a neat and clean house.

There are a whole lot of things that matter more than a neat and clean house.

Definitely! But I guess if there's nothing else actually happening and the house is still gross, that's where it gets really sad. It's one thing to have a messy house because you're working all day and dealing with kids and activities and passions, etc. It's quite another if it's because of....I don't know. Laziness? I am sure I am probably coming across as harsh and I don't intend do. These are rules for myself based on how unhappy growing up in a pig sty made me.

ETA:

I heard my mom say a number of times that she thought her kids would remember the things we did together more than the condition of her floors.

If the person who gave birth to me actually DID anything with me at all, I'd have forgiven the messes more easily. This is not a case where she was attentive to any of my other needs and the house was a by-product. No. I needn't go into it, but I wanted to be clear about it.

No doubt our feelings on the matter are strongly influenced by our youth. What I find interesting is how some people are neat because their homes in youth were a mess, and some are a mess because that was what was familiar and comfortable. It is tough to know if it is really nature or nurture.

eta: and of course I contradicted myself because I do have doubt on how much our childhood really molds this preference.

I am of the opposite in that I crave order and cleanliness and and am most happy with surfaces being free of stuff and all floors sparkling.

We were watching Friends the other night and Monica said, "Rules are good! They help control the fun!"

My house is currently exhausted-messy. I like things generally neat but am not overly stressed about a little clutter. However, at the moment one of our cats has started peeing outside the litterbox and every time I walk into the living room I can smell it, and it is so gross and depressing and makes me feel like a huge slob. (I think it's mostly in the rug, which I would just as soon get rid of, but M really likes having rugs all over the place, for some reason. We have cleaned the rug, but it -- or something close to it -- still stinks.)

We have people over all the time despite the clutter and the messy, because we are a bit of a hub for both families and some of our friends. I should have more shame, because really our house is a sty, but instead I just hope to beg a bit of forgiveness off of people.

He had no organization for his clothes. As in no sock drawer or t-shirt drawer. It was all stuffed where it would fit. I argued how could he ever find anything; he argued that no matter what drawer he opened he would find what he needed.

Well, that's an interesting idea. I like it. But I think it would only work for someone who doesn't care which pair of socks or which t-shirt they're wearing today.

Not someone like, say, me, who wants the little black flowered socks or the cosmic-kitty t-shirt today, and will rummage through everything, snarling and/or crying because this particular thing isn't where it's supposed to be. (Why not just wear something else? That's not the point! The point is, I should be able to find this and I can't.) I'm really more like Nanita; I'm happiest when everything is in its place and everything is clean, but I can't seem to keep it that way, and I get so frustrated and angry with myself over it. Yesterday I was looking for the piece of paper with my router password on it*, and in a fit of pique dumped a box of random papers on the floor. I found the password, but now there's a pile of papers on the floor. See how my mess is self-perpetuating? My own brain sabotages me; I can't get the place clean and organized enough, for long enough, for it to stay that way.

* Why don't I write down the password somewhere where I won't lose it? Oh, I did. It's on the fridge. But I forgot about that.

We have people over all the time despite the clutter and the messy, because we are a bit of a hub for both families and some of our friends. I should have more shame, because really our house is a sty, but instead I just hope to beg a bit of forgiveness off of people.

Yeah, I'd rather people who want me to come over just invite me, and not worry about it. I'm more interested in being friends than what your house looks like. It's probably no worse than mine usually is, and even if it is, so what.

I feel like my house is terrible, but objectively I know it's just mild-depression messy, not hoarder-level messy. The mess could be cleaned up in a weekend of sustained effort. What bothers me so much is that I can't make that sustained effort. Every single weekend I promise myself this weekend I'll Clean All The Things, but for one reason or another or none, I don't. I'm pretty annoyed with myself.

Five Guys has milkshakes now

Uh-oh.