...My kitten wouldn't attack anything with tassels, my boyfriend wouldn't insist on leaving his clothes, shoes and various items of crockery on my white couch, and I would have had the foresight to do some serious Scotchguarding before I let either of those two grubby little demons near said vulnerable couch.
Oh, and in an ideal world, my living room would look like this...
Oh, and in an ideal world, my living room would look like this...
In reality, I only have that couch, complete with antique white couch cover...what was I thinking?! I may have bought it a few months prior to falling in love with my little grey kitten, but still, I should have known better. The only person I know who's messier than I am is Mr. Unreliable. Worse still is that even though I'm messy, I compensate by going into complete cleaning overdrive whenever we have guests...Mr. Unreliable however, couldn't care less.
He always rolls his eyes and exclaims wearily "Oh why bother cleaning, it's just so-and-so!" He has applied this sound slice of logic to just about everyone, including my mother, and it wouldn't surprise me if he extended it to prime ministers, presidents and/or queens, were they ever to be in the neighbourhood.
His priorities are elsewhere...and I'm almost a little envious that he can be so blasé about the whole deal. The cynic in me says that he doesn't need to worry, because hey, who's going to judge him for having a messy house? He's a guy!
One part of me tells me this is ridiculous, but the other part keeps playing over the many times various family and friends ask ME why Mr. Unreliable is so darn skinny, and why I haven't been feeding him well.
Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we'd travelled back in time and landed in 1952! Let me just get my apron and my hot rollers! Did you park the Delorean out front?
HE CAN FEED HIMSELF! He's a grown man, he lived out of home long before I came along, let him cook for himself. Or here's a crazy idea, let him cook for ME!
But I digress. Here's the crux of it. I feel like I will be judged if our home isn't perfectly spotless. I feel as though it will reflect poorly on me, and nobody else.
I thought that these feelings might just be down to an age old battle of designers cohabiting with non-designers, but I suspect this is a little larger, and I'm quite sure I'm not alone...am I?
He always rolls his eyes and exclaims wearily "Oh why bother cleaning, it's just so-and-so!" He has applied this sound slice of logic to just about everyone, including my mother, and it wouldn't surprise me if he extended it to prime ministers, presidents and/or queens, were they ever to be in the neighbourhood.
His priorities are elsewhere...and I'm almost a little envious that he can be so blasé about the whole deal. The cynic in me says that he doesn't need to worry, because hey, who's going to judge him for having a messy house? He's a guy!
One part of me tells me this is ridiculous, but the other part keeps playing over the many times various family and friends ask ME why Mr. Unreliable is so darn skinny, and why I haven't been feeding him well.
Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we'd travelled back in time and landed in 1952! Let me just get my apron and my hot rollers! Did you park the Delorean out front?
HE CAN FEED HIMSELF! He's a grown man, he lived out of home long before I came along, let him cook for himself. Or here's a crazy idea, let him cook for ME!
But I digress. Here's the crux of it. I feel like I will be judged if our home isn't perfectly spotless. I feel as though it will reflect poorly on me, and nobody else.
I thought that these feelings might just be down to an age old battle of designers cohabiting with non-designers, but I suspect this is a little larger, and I'm quite sure I'm not alone...am I?
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31J4Ulf7XTYPUYuXykFbADdlTmUZjYyRCuucYE7bIvjQqupzgm9p6NnwvqcqfHycWsjl3p8k_mVG2WoNUYTPVPycXjVExS8r5ZNDr1rS4eojod7SqO1ZOojZHF_dzu_x_uDQjOESKERk/")
