I am happiest when my home isn't just clean – it's resplendent. Glowing white bathrooms full of sterile tile. Neat cupboards full of canned vegetables and that ubiquitous round of canned tuna that was on sale. Stainless steel sinks in which you can see your reflection. Dishwashers that are empty and ready for another load. Beds made with taunt and crisp sheets, and the expensive down pillows that Charlie bought me a few weeks ago are plump and inviting upon them. The smell of lemon furniture polish and the aroma of fresh paint fills every room. Mirror finish hardwood floors looking like glass as your tennis shoes squeak upon them while you walk they are so clean.
Maggie is the exact opposite. She loves chaos. Toys strewn - the innards ripped out. Dog hair flying as she digs at yet another imagined flea. Cushions on the couch pulled off onto the floor to make a comfortable nest to lie upon. Festive runs and jumps onto my freshly made beds to groom ourselves in the most vulgar way. We are like the odd couple and I constantly have to pick up after her. I will sigh with an exasperated look (but with also a smile) as I walk into the house to be greeted by such messes after running errands. If it wasn't for the greetings she gives me at the door, I could easily grow aggravated. My frustrations are soon forgotten as my best friend lets me know that she couldn't wait for me to get home and she is so glad to see me. Is this how parents feel?