Martha would not think that my home was a good thing.

If I were in a bad accident today, I would be more afraid of someone walking into my home to retrieve some personal items for me than I would be of whether I would live or die.
If I live, what would people say about HOW I live?
Oh, the shame of it all.
Let me be honest---I love to think of myself as Martha Stewart's half-sister whom she knows nothing about, but who keeps an immaculate home on a meager....very meager budget.
But in all honesty, I'm more like the half-sister of that fictional television character Lamont Sanford from the Sanford and Son.
My home is a mess most of the time: papers on the dining room table; dishes in the sink; unexplainable stains on my carpet; something sticky by the refrigerator; and my worst nemesis - the laundry.
I really, really do value a clean house. There have been times when I guzzle down cup after cup of coffee to give me the fuel I need to clean every room in the house until it's spotless.
Man, you should see how I beam when that grout and tile in my bathroom shine.
Why can't folk come by unexpectedly then and ask me if they can use the bathroom?
I love how my house looks, feels and smells after I get in to that kind of cleaning mood.
But apparently, I don't get into those moods nearly enough.
Right now, I have three baskets full of CLEAN clothes in my bedroom.
Washing them does not seem to be my problem. Getting them folded and returning them to a hanger and a closet does.
How do those mothers who have spotless homes do it? Do they have maids? Are they taking meth?
Wait... do I smell urine in my bedroom? I think my son has ditched a diaper somewhere in here.
It's probably under all of those clean clothes.
I have to get better at this. I don't want my son to think that this is the norm.
Saturday, he walked into my room as I was frantically going through the baskets, pointed at me and said "Nasty."
I taught him that word in hopes that would deter him from digging in his nose. Who knew he would turn around and use it on his sweet, unorganized mother....(sniff, sniff... I need a tissue...)
But I have got to figure out how to keep my clutter under control.
Before becoming a parent, I used to say that my house was a mess because I was depressed.
Well now, I'm not sure what is coming first...
The messy house or the slight depression because I live in a messy house.