Did you know that the world won’t collapse if you don’t do the laundry for three days? Or if something stands around in the corridor for a month? No wars will commence if you don’t vacuum for a week, and no one will arrest you for not cooking fresh every day.

Madness, right?

Think about how many things we think we HAVE TO DO that we actually really don’t need to do. Fair enough, if I don’t do laundry for three weeks, I might run out of clothes, but nothing BAD happens.

Ironing? No one needs that. Embrace your wrinkles, both in your face and your clothes. At some point in history, someone decided clothes need to be ironed, but nothing happens if we don’t do it.

I have recently thought about what I really HAVE TO DO in my life and what not; what I can reduce to have more time for what I want to do. I severely doubt anyone ever lay on their deathbed, thinking: Oh, how I wished I’d done more laundry in life.

Especially because of social media, the abstruse ideas concerning running a good household are escalating rapidly. Thousands of ideas floating the net to show how to organise your fridge perfectly, complete with perfectly matching containers; every shape of pasta deserves its own mason jar, rice and cereal beautifully arranged, too, of course. Every source of carbs cannot be simply put into the cupboard in its original packaging, it needs to be a work of art – and then please get your label makers and ensure every jar, pot and container is clearly labelled. Hundreds of tutorials on how to fold your laundry, followed by a complex origami-like process that will make you fold laundry for an hour – but so perfect, you almost have to sprinkle it with chocolate sauce and cream.

In the reels, you’re bombarded with videos captioned: “Seven hacks for a home that’s always ready for a guest”; or “This is how I keep a tidy house with seventeen children.”

Oh, and don’t let me forget the snack boxes—if you still just put bread, cheese and fruit in your kid’s snack box, YOU SUCK, for there are millions of ways to make it visually appealing – pineapples in the shape of stars, strawberries in the shape of hearts, or, if you’re really motivated, cut into the shape of a swan. Bread is, of course, crustless and has also been attacked with the cookie cutter to maximise garbage, snack platters in the colours of a rainbow – an endless, bottomless ocean of how to make it better than the next.

But here’s the shocking truth. No one fucking cares. No one cares how your fridge is organised or your cupboard (and, honestly, if they do, what weirdos are they?). No one gives a rat’s arse about how your laundry is folded in your wardrobe, whether the tablecloth is ironed (except for boomers, perhaps, but you’ll just have to be above that), or whether your pasta is stowed away in the cupboard instead of a beautiful display. And if anyone comes to my house unannounced, they better be okay with it being messy.

Your kids don’t appreciate their laundry more if it’s folded like a fucking swan, they give a fuck whether the pineapple looks like stars, or like, well, pineapple. If they don’t like it, they won’t eat it either way.

In a world of AI and robotics, we want life to get easier, but concerning household, it only gets more and more demanding. Now, we don’t only have to get it tidy and clean, but also visually appealing and organised to the standard of a person with OCD. I wonder how much time and energy I have wasted putting the shopping away in neat little containers and mason jars. Is that necessary? Do I want to spend my time like this? I’d rather write a story, play a game with my kids, or lie on the bed and rest.

A few years back I saw a reel from a mother of four who said, she didn’t fold the laundry of her kids anymore. They usually take it from the laundry basket and then, after wearing it, return it to the laundry bin. So, to save time and nerves, she decided to put big baskets in her kids’ room, where she loads all their laundry and they can take it out of there. She was, of course, severely shamed for that, and when I told it to my mum, my boomer mum said: “Oh no that’s not good, children need to learn how to fold laundry, that’s just how it’s done.”

The questions you have to continuously ask yourself are: But do they really have to learn that? Do I really need to do that? Is this preconception true or just habitual?

What would happen if we stopped folding laundry and just had a pants basket, a shirt basket, a bra basket, etc? Nothing. Nothing would happen, except that you would have a lot more time.

Maybe you ENJOY a wardrobe that’s clearly organised and neatly folded, and that’s fine. But then fold it for YOU, not because “that’s how it works”. This mum in the reel said at the end: “Your household should work for you, not you for your household”, and this phrase resonated deeply with me. Remember: you are an adult (even if you might not feel like one). YOU decide how things are going to work in your home, not society or your parents.

My daughter is a night owl. It can be really hard to get her up in the morning, and it was, more often than not, very stressful. Finally, I decided to let her sleep in the clothes she wanted to wear for kindergarten the next day. One thing less to do in the morning.

When I told my mum about this (firstly, WHY did I tell her? I must have a masochistic streak), she frowned and said: Well, the transition from day to night is very important, and putting on a pyjama is part of this.” I felt shamed and humiliated after her comment, and furious. Retrospectively, I can say, what she said was bullshit. There are millions of ways to ease children from day to night. Brushing teeth, reading a book in bed, singing certain songs. It doesn’t live or die on this ONE item of the nighttime routine. And besides, children’s clothes are so super comfortable these days. My kids don’t wear jeans or frilly stuff, mostly leggings and a cotton T-shirt. Now, to explain to my three-year-old that THIS set of legging and T-shirt is clothes, and THAT set of leggings and T-shirt is a pyjama just highlights that this categorising is a deeply grown-up thing and makes no sense to a child. So, have my children gone to kindergarten in their PJs? Hell yeah. Pyjamas versus clothes is NOT the hill I’m choosing to die on. There are so many hills during the day I have to die on anyway, some, they can have.

In order to do more what excites me, makes me happy, I have to cut down on the things I think you MUST do. No one will remember your mason jars, but that you could speak Spanish, they will. Your kids won’t remember you by always having fresh laundry but by the afternoon you made a massively messy blanket fort in the living room, spilling cocoa on the carpet and laughing about it – because in the end, home is where we LIVE, not perform. We need to remember that life isn’t about perfection, about still lifes but about LIFES.

Embracing the mess is really hard for me but I’m working on it, and I’m excited if I use the time with my kids, on writing blog posts, studying something I enjoy, spending quality time with my husband and REFRAME the mess. Instead of seeing the kids’ toys as mess, I see that we had a lively day (to some extent, there are still some mess limits).  When stuff stands around in the corridor, I remember how I rearranged my son’s room because I love redecorating. Reframing helps me see the benefit of the mess, not only the untidiness.

You can have a sterile home, clean, perfect, always tidy, like Petunia Dursley; or, you embrace your inner Molly Weasley and have wellies scattered in front of your door, telling of country life, a cosy home with knitting and books lying around, a scruffy table that tells a story and a sense of YOU and your family. I recently watched the Homeworthy House Tour of Rebecca Lovatt’s English cottage (highly recommend to watch it on Youtube). Rebecca Lovatt is an interior decorator but her house breathes whimsy and personality. In her bedroom, the bed is propped up on one side by old books because her old floors are so uneven. Now, you could of course say you need a “professional” solution, or you embrace the whimsy of your home and allow the odd quirk. Homes should tell a story, your story. Your messy, beautiful, unpredictable story.