No, really, it’s bad
Well, no, it’s not, but it’s not good, either.
Housekeeping is not a strong point with me. Instead of being the superwoman I am in my imagination, I spend hours standing in my slightly messy house wondering what to do next. What to do first. Where to begin. I’m at a stage where everything is functional, but there are small piles of clutter scattered about the house. I know to conquer them one pile at a time, but I’m overwhelmed — or else underwhelmed, because there are always things I would rather do, like cook, or write, or go for a walk, or take a nap.
I just went and took a picture of a pile of toys upstairs that’s been there for a few days (weeks). Chris said, “So you do see the mess.” I do, but I don’t know where to begin to deal with it. So I’m doing what I know to do, and that is to write about it.
It’s a start.
Dance with the Reaper 
If he saw the mess, why didn’t he pick up the stuff or have the kids do it?
Chris does more housework than I do — and he has a job and I don’t.
Yay Chris! I’m a fan, too.
And yes, that little pile does look messy. But it’s their playroom, and they’re kids, bless their hearts.