Dirty little secrets

I discovered that it takes exactly one week for my kitchen to go from pretty nice to "a herd of filthy pigs live here?" when I dug in and started cleaning up this morning.  Yeah... makes me a little sick, too.  And I have no excuse for not unloading the diswasher and putting newly dirtied plates and silverware back in there as I went along.  I was just plain lazy.

Well, the dishwasher is going now.  And the sink has been scrubbed, counters wiped off, fridge cleaned out, floor swept and two big bags of garbage have made it to the trash can.  Order is restored out of the chaos.

But I'm almost certain it will happen again.  Maybe not in the kitchen but somewhere in life I will be lazy and let things slide then scramble to restore what once was.  It makes me think about the dirty little secrets we all carry with us.  Not the big stuff like personal betrayal or criminal activity - that's a whole different kind of dirty secret - but the little everyday things we carry around.  The things we try to cover up so others won't think we are as imperfect as we really are. 

Generally, I'd say I'm a pretty good person.  There are details, however, that might point to a different conclusion.  Actions I'm seeing as details might include racing down a different isle at the grocery store to avoid the chatty neighbor who will stand there and talk an hour because she's desperately lonely or choosing not to answer a phone call when I see who it is or telling a telemarketer to stick it where the sun doesn't shine or Febreezing the heck out of those pants that have been in the laundry basket for a week.

Philosophers say God is in the details.  So is the devil.