Embracing the mess.

Something I'm not the best at is embracing a mess.

While I've had my opportunities to maybe be selfish and live alone, our house in Alaska was never spotless.  I didn't really care about that place.  I didn't have people who were willing to come visit me (I lived in the "valley". The horror of being 30 minutes from base, right?), Scott wasn't there all the time, and I had a job.  Now, I have people who don't mind coming over, Scott is here, and I have the time to keep the house clean.

Enter a puppy.

It's blurry because they were playing.

Now, I don't mind clothes lying around.  I don't mind dishes occasionally piling up.  Dust doesn't get to me.  However, I am neurotic about floors.  If I see a spot on the kitchen tile, I will wipe it up with a lysol wipe.  I vacuum once a day.  The carpets in this house aren't anything spectacular, but I want them to look clean, at least.  (Seriously, is that a ridiculous dream? To have floors that seem to be clean?)

All the puppy really does to disturb my perfect clean floor dream is track bits of grass into the house.  And it rained on Wednesday so that was a new experience...I dried him off at the door every time he went out.  And I mourned the bath I'd so meticulously given him on Tuesday night.

I hear it gets worse when you have kids.  As a former child, I can probably attest to that.

Of course, while I can deal with the puppy (and he's totally getting used to my constant vacuuming), I'm still struggling with the adults who insist on wearing their shoes in the house.  It's a never-ending battle around here.

Except, ohmygosh, is that a puppy on my bed?  I swore this would never happen.

He was out like a light the whole time. So it's not like he knew he was on my bed..right?

I just moved him up there so I could watch him while I read.

I really doubt it's a coincidence that THIS is the design on the 12-pack of paper towels I bought a week ago.