Hurricane Houston... and Danielle. And sometimes Justin.

I was blessed with a husband who cleans. Honestly, if Houston and I were left alone with each other, I don't know how long it would take for our house to look like someone from "Hoarders." But sometimes the house gets to a point, even with my cleaning husband, where it is much easier to blog about its disastrousness then to actually do anything about it.

From where I sit at my kitchen counter, I can see Houston's jams from last night, strewn around the living room. There's a suitcase in my dining room from the time, last month, when we went to visit my sister in Burlington. Houston figured out how to work the zipper, so there are even more clothes heaped in a pile around his kitchen set. That damn kitchen set. There are plastic potatoes, and spatulas, and hot dog buns all over the place, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers, mostly gone, sitting in his kitchen sink. I don't want to know what I'd find if I opened his fridge.

There are dishes in the real sink. Toys all over the kitchen floor. Random bits of tupperware littered everywhere. Bills on my counter (ugh). Bananas in the fruit bowl that I keep telling myself I'll use for banana bread, but not sure if they're really still edible or not. And that's just what I can see. Here. Without moving.

I keep telling myself I just need to look up ONE more thing on the computer before I start. Facebook statuses, my Fantasy Football team, my email, my blog stats. But in the back of my mind the question remains, what if your mother-in-law stops by RIGHT now?

Time to chug the rest of my dunks, turn on Itunes, and just start... sigh. What's your motivation for cleaning when your living space becomes too cluttered to go on living? What inspires you? Leave love below!

If I was a single woman and liked animals... maybe?