Oh lord

I just realized how totally, disgustingly dirty my house is.

I mean, just now.

That patina around the edges of the stairs? That's dust. Thick, gray dust. In fact, the dust is so evenly distributed on every surface of my house that I can no longer tell whether or not things are dusty.

The other day, my sister asked, "When are Mom and I going to come over and get your house together? We need to do that before the baby gets here."

I said, "My house isn't that bad!" And I meant it.

But today, I tested her accusation. No, it's not that bad. It's much, much worse.

Max switched bedrooms when Danny left for college. Now, my kids are not bedroom kids. I was a bedroom kid. I spent 90% of my time at home in my room. My kids don't do that. They go in there to change their clothes and sleep. So moving rooms was not a big drama. Except now, Max's old room is going to be the nursery, and he still had a bunch of stuff in there, strewn around. Today, I asked him to clean it out...decide what's trash, decide what he can give away, decide what to keep. He did a fantastic job (with a little help from Dave). I followed behind with a swiffer cloth and the vacuum cleaner. Now, the room is (clean and) nearly empty, and that feels good.

So anyway, I basically cleaned the crap out of the upstairs today. Straightened up, thorough dusting & vacuuming. I'll continue on over the next few weeks and complete my big fall cleaning, but the thing that bothers me is this: how did it get this way?

Oh yeah, I never clean.

Sigh.