As a kid, I had a calligraphied sign on my bedroom door that read, "Creative minds are rarely tidy!"
It was my attempt to rationalize the truly disgusting state of my room.
I hated having a messy room. But I lacked the motivation to do anything about it. It bugged the hell out of me, though.
Now, when my house is a cluttered mess, which is pretty much always the case, it raises my stress level through the roof. I hate being that person. I avoid having people over (and therefore making friends) because I'm embarrassed by my house.
Yesterday, since school was closed, I took my daughter to her violin teacher's house for her lesson.
Now this man is a very well-respected teacher and musician. He gives lessons in his house every day of the week. He has a sign by the door requesting that people remove their shoes. Probably so that the filth of his house won't ruin his student's footwear.
My lord! His house looked like it could be condemned by the health department. And this is not some single man living in a musical genius haze. His wife holds two doctorates and he has a gifted child.
There was literally a path bulldozed through the piles of toys, papers, assorted household crap and food in the living room.
And I'm fascinated by this.
What is it about people that makes some get up at 5:30 every morning to vacuum (like my step-monster-in-law) and other's conduct a business out of a home that could be featured on Ripley's Believe It or Not?
What is it about me that makes me obsess over the (not really all that bad) mess in my house, but only rarely do anything about it?
I'm giving myself a little break here. And I'm letting my kids and husband shoulder some of the blame. And I'm considering taking some writing jobs to be able to afford to hire back my cleaning ladies.
In the meantime, I think I'll hang a sign on my front door.
Creative minds really are rarely tidy!
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