Growing up, I absolutely loathed how clean and tidy our house was at all times. OK, I didn't hate that it was clean, but the fact that my mom always insisted that dishes were cleaned the second they hit the sink, and bedsheets and pillows tucked and fluffed before the day even got going.
I found it endlessly annoying as a kid to live in what one person close to me once described as a "model home"—sparkling kitchen counters and all. But now, as a result, I can't imagine living anywhere even remotely disorganized (have you met my kitchen storage MVP yet?) or messy (my BFF is a purple vacuum).
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