I don't mind clutter as long as I can move around the house and more or less find what I need without too much problem and it doesn't smell. I've had some archological training, so I know how to properly clutter without losing anything. I abhore food trash, wet trash, and dirty dishes; too much time living in areas where there were big bugs and rats and mold grows quickly. So I'm really pretty easy to deal with if someone's a bit absent minded when it comes to cleaning. I don't want a tidy home, I just want a livable home where I can at least walk around the house without breaking my legs.
Unfortunatly, the kidlet doesn't seem to mind living in a horder's home. Stop, drop, and walk away is her motto for dealing with something after she's finished with it - even if it's a half-consumed bowl (one of my good fiesta-ware bowls, too boot) of midnight milk and cereal stashed between the pillow and the headboard on her bed. Almost all my good wedding flatware is probably under her bed or in one of the many boxes full of overflowing teenager stuff in her bedroom, because she likes that better than the cheap stuff we bought for daily use. Her room smells like a landfill sometimes, and then she complains she hates the house because it's so trashed and everythiing she owns is filthy and smells.
Her baby-daddy isn't much better, but at least he wiill pick up if you stand over him, telling him what to do and when the clean-up is over. It just hasn't really sunk in about observation and follo-through, but at least he finally ensures that all the dirty diapers migrate to the diaper pail (we got a Diaper Genie type container) and when it fills up, he'll take the bag to the outside trash bin rather than pulling it out and leaving it on the floor by the changing table.
And that drives me crazy. Sometimes I walk in the house after a late day of work and class, and I just want to turn around and check into a hotel.
Okay, I'm just venting. It was a class night, when the kidlet supposedly takes responsiblity for dinner, and I came home around 8pm, tired and starving, to her sheepish grin and statment of:
"I'm just thinking about dinner now but we don't have anything (as in, she didn't feel like heating up any of "her favorite meals" I've made or any of the other options that are in the filled up freezer and overflowing pantry), and I don't have any money, so can you go out and pick us up something?"
And a house that looked like it had been used for Marine morter practice, or the SWAT team had charged in with an erroneous search warrant.
I was this close to "Easy-8 Hotel, here I come". Luckily, Laz got it sorted out.
Haele
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