Normally no one invites friends to have an unpleasant visit.    I am talking interiors.   And personal failings.  

I am not a hoarder.  I am not unsanitary.   I’m a filthy bad house keeper, and I can’t afford to redo the interior of my house.   I’ve lived in shabby places galore since adulthood.

I accept and understand   social norms and common human needs.  

No judgment is made against people who hate the interior of my house.  They are as much as maybe half mitigated in so feeling.

I am respectful and tolerant toward  shit-eating human frailty.

Don’t visit.   You’ll hate it here.   I’m a disgusting housekeeper.  The furniture here is disgusting.  So’s the lighting.   There’s no rugs at all.  

I am a happy soul in my hovel.  I’m made for this dump.   I would like everyone to forgive me for being an awful housekeeper. Why does Jesus Christ look like Ted Nugent in the late 1970s?

I don’t invite guests here out of respect for others.  But that could be taken many ways.  Suffice no one visits here

Holy huge rat pellets, Batman! I reminded myself, like a cruel typing teacher might do, in class, and it's...it's...it's traumatic, really. Prounonce that 'really' 'rilly' It's painful...rilly. I just remembered what the antidote was for ugly interior design. Alcohol. I would walk to a bar, commence drinking, chase some skirts, maybe meet a female who wants to do the wild thing. I like doing the wild thing. Nothing queer. No rough stuff.

Alcohol was essential, and bars made it possible for bad housekeepers to socialize.

I socialized in bars, drinking holes, years ago, and yielded many interesting sex lives in many filthy apartments I rented. I'm a god-awful house keeper, I like pussy, and with enough beer and whiskey pre-existing in sex partners such as mine...their doing... not mine...bliss finds a way, with no arrests or abortions. I dated many low net worth female alcoholics. Best was having sex in a new partner's clean apartment. Naturally, dirty joints were okay, too. Proud. I'm proud of my history.

And I socialized zillions of low net worth men asexually and para-fraternally. Some of whom were gracious guests in my shabby dirty apartment full of dirty dishes and ashtrays and I don't own a vacuum. There were bars in walking distance everywhere I lived until I moved here.

The Northside is a cesspit of addiction and abuse, but there aren't any bars in walking distance, and I don't drive drunk no matter how boring it gets anywhere. So these days, I just don't receive guests. How shitty. Thanks for reading,