Denise's House

My neighbor Denise is not a good housekeeper. Every time I go outside, she is on her back deck smoking a cigarette. Walking over to her front porch, you see a layer of cigarette butts lining her walkway. As you walk into her foyer, you are greeted with the terrible odor of garbage and dog urine. The carpet on the steps leading into the living room is stained with dried mud. Entering the living room is even scarier; you’re greeted with tons of clothes thrown haphazardly everywhere. On her stereo next to the couch are cd’s just scattered like gravel on a road. Next to her stereo are bags and bags of art supplies heaped on the couch. The floor in the living room once had a rug, but it had since been removed. The staples from the old rug are still in the floor, and ready to tear your toenails off if you walk barefoot. On her living room wall is some of her artwork that she had hung, but it is so dusty you could not tell what it is. Next to the wall is a dead dried up house plant that looked like it hasn’t seen a watering can in years. In the middle of the room there are flies flying around like little hungry pests waiting to eat her leftover food on her coffee table. To the right of the living room is the dining room, which is a complete disaster area. Boxes and boxes are piled up like a warehouse, with more art supplies, papers, and old make-up all dried up like a desert floor. On the sliding window beside the dining room table is a smear of dog saliva, dripping down the front from her dog Booshekie. Next to the dining room is the kitchen. There are dirty dishes piled in the sink with food caked on them still waiting to be washed. What once was a piece of pizza is still in the toaster oven long forgotten. Besides the toaster oven is her stove, which has spilled food on it that looks like hamburger. The refrigerator has dents and splashes of food and some sort of liquid down the front of it. Down the hallway to her bedroom are mismatched shoes with more dried mud on them. As I trip down the hall on her shoes, I come to her bedroom. When I look into her bedroom, I am shocked. You cannot enter the room as it is stacked from ceiling to floor with more black garbage bags full of clothes. That’s when I came to the realization that my friend and neighbor is not a good housekeeper.