I can’t invite people over to my house. Or I could, but I wouldn’t want to. More optimistic people can call it cozy but really it’s clutter. It’s claustrophobic. It’s crowded. Rooms thinned down to a tiny walkway with a place to sit and a lot of piles. Some rooms have less piles than others to leave room for activities. Like the kitchen needs room for cooking. Hallways need room for walking. Bathrooms need room to use the bathroom. 

  Rooms with extra space are filled with piles of endless clutter. I no longer have a dining room as it’s been completely filled. My attic, my basement, my dog’s room, my dad’s office, my bedroom, my sister’s room, all filled with clutter and junk. My old house fits all of my family’s clutter but that makes for an embarrassing mess to show to friends. 

  Not to mention the sorry condition of my yard. Having a cow for a dog makes for a lawn mower that cuts a little too short. Clutter spills outside onto my porch.

  My home might be cluttered but it’s my space. It’s where I live. I love my home no matter how messy it is. Still won’t invite people over though.