Perhaps it’s a result of growing up with a fastidious mother, or maybe it’s my Virgo nature that craves order and despises clutter. Or, if you ask my partner and kids, they might say I take pleasure in driving them up the wall with my endless reminders to “clean this” and “get rid of that.” Whatever the reason, my home is typically tidy.
However, lurking behind closed doors are some secrets—literal and figurative. While my living spaces may appear orderly, open any closet or drawer, and you risk an avalanche of chaos. My closets, cabinets, and pantry have always been a jumbled mess, and I suspect they always will be.
As a child, whenever my mother asked me to tidy up my room, I would simply shove everything into a pile and bulldoze it into the closet, shutting the door with a sense of triumph. My room looked fine, my mom was satisfied, and I avoided any reprimands for being untidy. Sure, I had to push hard against the door to get it to close, and I’d lose track of items for months, but hey, my space was neat.
Now, years later, I find myself repeating those same habits, though it’s not quite as disastrous as my childhood closet. My kitchen cabinets? A cacophony of clanking cookware every time I reach in. My wardrobe resembles a chaotic jumble rather than a well-organized display of clothing. And if you need first-aid supplies, prepare for a scavenger hunt through my drawer filled with expired tubes and bottles—it’s a bit of a treacherous expedition.
I can’t really justify this disarray (pun intended). It’s mostly laziness, I suppose. I know that with a bit of effort upfront, I could restore some order, making future maintenance a breeze. But, like giving up chocolate for my dream body, I find myself clinging to my clutter.
In an ideal world, I would have a pantry organized to perfection like something out of a Marie Kondo book, complete with neatly labeled jars. My closet would be meticulously arranged by season and color, and I’d have someone else cleaning my home to my exacting standards. Alas, I’m not there yet—until I can somehow afford a maid or a miracle method to squeeze extra hours into my day (neither of which seems likely), I’ll focus on tidying up the areas visible to guests. I care about my home’s appearance, but I refuse to stress over the mess behind closed doors.
It’s true, I share the same 24 hours as Beyoncé, but I doubt she spends any of hers cleaning out her closet.
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In summary, while my home appears neat from the outside, the truth is that my closets and drawers tell a different story. My desire for order clashes with my tendency to procrastinate on deeper organization, leaving me with a tidy facade and chaos behind the scenes.