this damn house might kill me before I ever feel at home.

It’s been months and it still takes a full weekend of doing nothing else but cleaning to make the house presentable for guests. I’m afraid it will never be a house that is usually¬† mostly presentable. I don’t want to live in a cluttered rat nest of crap. I don’t want to live among random piles of garbage and not-yet garbage. I don’t want to live with rats or like rats. And I definitely don’t want to cut down all the trees just because suddenly they are eyesores when we have literal piles of garbage all around us.

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