I Absolutely Refuse To Be Konned By KonMari

The wild popularity of the KonMari show could really kill my konfidence in my skimpy housekeeping skills.

I mean, if I had a dime—ok, even just a penny—for every time I have said, “Sorry for the mess” when someone entered my home, paying for college would be a slam dunk.

Maybe June Cleaver and bad, stereotypical sitcoms are to blame, but somehow a neat house became the standard by which mothers are judged. And now Marie Kondo is trying to convince me that my mess is messing with my mojo.

Neat...