What do you need right now?

The laundry pile grows by the hour. Clothes from work. Hesston's accident pile. My pajama pile. Sadly, the last one tops them all. The smell of exhaust and body odor permeates the area, making me run away instead of dig in. The colors are mixed together, reds, blues, blacks, whites, off whites. I wish I didn't have to sort through this mess. My hands feel greasy just looking at the piles.

The kitchen floor is sticky. Probably from the chocolate milk we spilt a couple days ago. Maybe that's the sour smell in the kitchen. Or maybe it's from the left over food crumbs. I haven't gotten around to sweeping them up. I can't stand by the sink or garbage can, the smell makes me gag.

Shoes are kicked off by the front door, in random order. Trying to find a pair that matches is like finding matching socks in the laundry.

The living room has toys spilling over the side of the bin, onto the floor and sofas. It's like a land mine in there, best to stay out. A blanket is crumpled on the floor by the sofa, and a few stuffed animals are close by. Hesston must've cuddled with them this morning while he enjoyed his vitamin gummies. My guess was right, one of his bowls is sticking out from under the blanket.

The beds are unmade. Pillows sit at awkward angles. And clothes are draped over the foot board of the bed. There are hats stacked on the bed posts, and dirty clothes on the floor. Magazines and books are strewn across the bedside table, along with snacks and water. I'm afraid to look in the closet.

The bathroom smells like mildew. No doubt from the fact that it hasn't been cleaned since I came back from Idaho two months ago. I keep trying to get Ted to clean it, but he's so busy doing the things I can't do when he gets home, that bigger projects like that get pushed back to tomorrow, over and over. The towels have a moist feel to them, and I wonder if they ever dry.

Upstairs is off limits for me. I don't even want to venture and see what kind of damage Hesston has conjured while he's up there playing in his toy room. The last time I did go and check upstairs, the toilet had been clogged with poop for who knows how many days, and I had to take a plunger to it. Talk about gag reflex.

I wander out to the kitchen throughout the day, trying not to gag from all the different musty smells in the house. I have to keep myself fed or else my all day morning sickness gets worse. Every time I make that trip, it's all I can do to not vomit. I haven't cooked in over a month. I feel like I'm surviving on cereal, eggs, and fast food. I think Hesston's surviving on sandwiches and treats. Ted's doing the best out of all of us, keeping up with his fruits and veggies.

I need a house keeper. I need a cook. What I wouldn't pay to get my house clean, and a good home cooked meal. It's become a novelty these last 6 weeks. I pray this cursed nausea goes away before I go crazy with this mess.
Maybe I should post a Help Wanted Ad in the paper just to see what response I get...