My Dirty Housewife Confession

Spring is the season of cleaning, right?

If that is true - I'm in big trouble.

There is dust on my blinds, dust on the tops of just about every frame in this house and dust (in the form of bunnies) under each bed. I don't even want to think of what the results would be if Dateline NBC came to do an investigation like those they do in nasty hotel rooms. I shudder at the thought.

Instead of beating myself up about the dust, I'm joining Mrs. Chicken (of Chicken and Cheese fame) and embracing it, even if I sneeze a thousand times in the process! Oh, how I love thee, dust. Almost as much as I love a clean home.

I kid.

But seriously, give yourself a break. Stop running around the house with swiffer sheets duct-tapped to the bottom of your shoes! Take a shower without scrubbing it down! Brush your teeth and leave a little toothpaste in the sink! Live on the edge!

It's okay, you're in good company.

Embrace the dirty housewife within and skip the cleaning for a day; maybe only a few hours, but progress is progress, right?

Share your dirtiness with us, like I am going to do right now (warning, the following photos contain images not suitable for grandmothers or anyone else with high household standards), beginning with the travesty I like to call the laundry room chaos:

Notice the pile of clothes (not in a hamper!) waiting to be sorted and washed. Notice the Easter baskets on the shelf and the oh so organized stash of stain treaters. Notice the iron that hardly ever gets used and the backpacks that dangle precariously from above. Sorry about the bra hanging there, you probably didn't need to see that.

Wait, it gets better:

This, is the view from behind my washing machine (the one that likes to unplug itself during a good spin cycle). One would think that with all the unplugging that happens here, resulting in a need to be plugged back in, that the area below the electrical outlet would be free of spare Dora shoes, sippy cups, outlet mall bags and lost clothing.

One would be wrong to assume that.

To the left of the washing machine stands the dryer, with its own treasure trove of goodies behind it (also note the dust on the floor). Whose clothes these are, I'll never know unless I fish them out of there with a broom handle before they catch on fire!

And just so that it isn't all about the laundry room, I've included (for your viewing pleasure) the closet of which I am afraid to open. Sometimes, when the kids are getting on my nerves, I think about going in there, getting all cozy on the Dora couch and never coming out (there is a handy light, so it wouldn't be dark!).

So, housewives of the Intrawebs, go forth and share your dirtiness! I dare you.