March 13, 2014

My Sister and I: Cluttered Versus Neat Home


Hug for Nancy



But I won the prizes!

Welcome to my home. It’s spring cleaning time but I’d rather write about it than do it.

“Let me clear this stuff off the chair so you have a place to sit—I’ll turn on the tea kettle so the water can boil while I clear the papers off the table so we can visit for a while. I won’t apologize for the condition of this house, because most of the time it’s even worse. It depends on what’s happening in my life, but if you visit me you often have to wait for me to clear a seat of its coveted clutter before you can sit down.” I kick several plastic bags out of the path as I head to the stove.

As is often the case, my sister is totally opposite. This scenario wouldn’t happen at her house. She is a neat freak. You never have to wonder if you’ll be able to find a place to sit in her home. Clutter is a foreign word in her environs. Although I am sometimes jealous I admire and enjoy visiting her uncluttered, unfettered, home, so unlike my home.

She is so clean you can eat off her floor.

She is going to be angry at me but I’m going to reveal one of her secrets. She doesn’t like to do dishes, so she sets the dirty plates and silverware and glasses on her so-clean floor and turns her cats into automatic dishwashers. The cat’s tongues are so rough the dishes are licked really clean.


However, one of her rebellious cats sometimes jumps on the counter to get to the dishes before she can put them on the floor:

IMG_7831eNo one ever has a clue that she does this. However, she told my husband, her favorite brother-in-law, that she does this. And, until now, she doesn’t even know that I know.

It’s a family secret everyone in the family knows but she doesn’t know they know.

How she manages to be so uncluttered is beyond me. I cannot understand how she accomplishes this feat. I keep removing carloads of stuff from the house, yet the clutter never seems to subside.

The most challenging clutter is plastic bags, dust kittens, and papers. They just clone, and the clones clone, and the clone’s clones clone until I fear they will bury me under an avalanche caused by their free-wheeling multiplication.


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