It is no wonder that memory sticks with me as I consider my own home. A house from a magazine? Hardly. Don't get me wrong, I've had house envy - not only for homes prettied up for a photo shoot, but real living and breathing homes that human beings actually dwell in. Here are my conclusions about magazine quality homes:
- It is the owner's hobby to cute it up. This person has a real talent for colors, textiles, and finding cute knick-knacks at little boutiques. This person is artsy-crafty. This person can wield a paintbrush with the skill of Monet, and not make a frustrating mess in the process.
- Or... this person is an obsessed neatnick perfectionist. Everything has to be a certain way - and sparkling - to measure up. The pressure is on, and this person is going to keep up with whatever demons in their mind prod them on to this level of perfection. Then they will go throw up.
- Or... this person hires a decorator, is concerned about putting on a show for snobby friends, wants to impress (read intimidate) others. Everything is about appearances.
- Or... a little of all of the above? I'm not sure.
So here is what tidy looks like at my house:
- If it is crammed in a closet and not in open view, it is clean enough.
- bins! So glad someone invented those.
- Oh, nasty dust disaster on top of the fridge. I need to do a better job staying on top of that.
- Anything you set on the counter should be able to be easily lifted off of it - no sticky traps.
- regular fridge inspections to rid it of anything that looks like a science experiment.
- a daily cleaning schedule that means that friends can stop by most any time and I will not be utterly mortified at the state of my house.
- I teach my kids to clean. Even if they don't do as careful of a job as I do, it still looks better when they are done. Good enough.
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