I Live in My House

I had a conversation with a friend recently on whether a house should appear lived in. I have to say, I was slightly taken aback.

I live in my house. I'm not trying to decieve visitors into thinking otherwise.

This is my fridge moments ago.

I'm sure some would call it cluttered. Eh...so be it. I don't mind.

Space in this house is hard to come by, we use what we have. The lower half, devoted to K. The upper half, full of usefullness. Bottle opener? Got it. Peditricans number? Check. Coupon to Bed, Bath, & Beyond? Yup.

To the proponents of making your house appear "open house ready" at all times, sure I could give K a cookie sheet to play with her magnets and tuck it neatly away in the cabinet. I could file the coupons and important numbers in a drawer, rid the fridge of all objects. But, why? I guess I just don't understand the importance.

I think you can tell a lot about people by the contents of their fridge and the magnets on the exterior. Maybe I'll show you the inside another day. But it's clear, the exterior of my fridge says I'm not a neat freak and we live here.