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I live in complete fear of the drop-in. I don’t just fear the dating drop-in, I fear ANYONE dropping by my apartment. When I hear a knock I stop what I’m doing, drop to the floor and fervently pray that the knock in on my neighbors’ door and not mine.

Sadly I’m not exaggerating. Well, maybe about the praying part, but nothing else.

My apartment is a complete disaster and has been since I returned to school. By the time I finish with everything that needs to be done I want to sack out on the couch, not clean the couch.

I’ve lived in my apartment for five years. This is the longest I’ve lived anywhere since moving out of my parents’ house at 18. I once loved my cute little apartment with a loft bedroom. It’s charming and totally fits my personality. However, the busier I got the more I stopped caring about how clean things were. The carpets look like I had a rave party and the abandoned shoes all over complete the look.

I’d love to buy a small condo, but that small savings I had went to the University of Utah. I’m not complaining, mind you, a degree is totally worth it. It’s just… well… I’m tired of not being able to invite people over. I would die if anyone saw how messy my place is.

Rather than set aside a day to clean up and rent a carpet cleaner, I’m blogging about the situation. Blogging and trying to convince myself that tomorrow will be the day that Daisy the Pug develops opposable thumbs and turns into a French maid.