Messy Me

I sometimes feel remarkably comfortable surrounded by mess...not filth exactly, just clutter. I usually clean it up for people who don't live with me but tonight, when it's just us, I see the mess and it doesn't really phase me. Right now, there are at least 5 clean loads of laundry piled on, over, and next to my oversized living room chair. There are also dishes (dirty) in the sink because the dishwasher is full of clean dishes and, apparently, these new-fangled dishwashers don't empty themselves.

My bedroom is filled with laundry baskets full of toiletries and other crap that I cleaned out of the bathroom vanity and over-the-toilet cabinet the other day when I started but didn't finish my latest organization project. There are also more clean clothes piled on my chair and spilling out of my closet. There are numerous piles and baskets full of paper that were compiled during a previous organization project. There are hats, and shoes, and books and belts on the floor next to the bed.

In addition to the sink full of dishes, the kitchen has some piling going on, too. I made some piles of papers that I needed to go through, but then the piles spilled over and had new papers and cat toys and batteries and, what-have-you, added to the top of the spilled-over pile. The recycling bin is filled to the brim with...well, recycling AND some of the kids' outgrown clothing and books that I want to bring to the Goodwill.

The hall, the bathroom, and the kids' room are pretty neat, actually. Today, anyway. That's what I do. I move the mess around. When I was first diagnosed with MS and Christina and then Liz, and then Sandra, my angel housecleaner, came into the house, I was way too exhausted to hide...I mean CLEAN UP the mess. It was awful. Here I was feeling like moldy bread and I couldn't put on the neat girl mask.

Hmmm. I did it again. When I rant and rave about something like clothing sizes, voting, or slovenly housecleaning, I always feel the need to bring it back to MS since that was the impetus for this blog. But, you know what? I'm pretty sure I am not in a relapse so I'm also pretty sure I can't blame the MS for the mess that currently surrounds me. People who share my last name will tell you that I have ALWAYS been this way. And, as far as I know, everyone with the MS gene isn't a slob.

I am a woman with MS and I don't always want to write about the MS. Oooooh. I think that means I'm moving along on the happy trail of acceptance. Stop the presses. Messy Woman With MS Finds Something Else to Write About.