If my house is a metaphor for my life, then I'm in big trouble.
The in-laws are coming for dinner. This is always a call to action. My mother-in-law, bless her, is an extremely capable woman. My house is a comfortable, 'good enough' kind of place. Not too clean and not too dirty. Inevitably though, the flotsam and jetsam of family life gathers in the corners and, without due attention, spreads across the rooms. Piles of books, Pokemon cards and sundry sporting equipment accumulate and multiply. Usually this is not a problem; providing I can clear a space to read or study then I can block out the chaos around me. Until the in-laws arrive. Suddenly I see our happy disorder through different eyes.
Four charity bags later I've discovered a random assortment of missing objects and half-read books.
Perhaps, this year, less will be more?