My house is untidy. I know that and I accept that, mostly. I make great efforts to restore things to order, have a system, hoover when the carpet needs it, rearrange the hall rug that has slipped sideways as it always does, and so on and so forth. No, you are not about to get all the details! Promise!
But what I'm not alright with, is this: on a day course recently with my sister, she told everyone around how untidy my house was, how she herself likes order and matching and decluttering on a regular basis. There was a silence. A woman to my left commented "Only a sister could say such a thing and get away with it", and we made little of the whole thing.
But here's the thing: my sister's exposure of me, my home, my lack of organisation, frankly, of not coming up to her exacting and selfish standards, rankled with me for quite a few days. Did I need to try harder at home? Did everyone snigger about my home behind my back as my sister had done to these people?
Now you may think I'm being unduly pernickety here. Let it drop. But like the proverbial dog, my sister's exposure of me, my house, my ways gnawed away at my self esteem until I confided in a friend what had occurred. Wise friend was not dismissive at all. Wise friend gave me the confidence I was lacking to look at it from another angle.: my house, my home, was a summation of my life and the clutter a reminder of people, and events cherished from the past till the current time.
I must say in case you are thinking now that my home is like that of Miss Haversham in Dickens Great Expectations, that, relatively speaking, the house is ok. It wouldn't attract Aggie and her mate, there wouldn't be sufficient scope. Or at least, not from where I'm judging it, anyway....
I'd appreciate your views and thoughts. If you feel strongly enough about the subject at all, that is! You may have far more important fish to fry!
A Moodscope member.