Here's the thing about the homes we live in: They're ours and we see them every day so we're desensitized to how wonderful they are; the memories we're making in them; the interesting smells, conversations, and historical moments they're privy to. It's only when many years have passed and nothing but a picture of that home remains that we can appreciate them.
Any time I look at a picture of my childhood home, I feel a pang of warmth and nostalgia. The rooms that background my face are usually a mess; they have toys strewn about, unmade beds, and lumpy carpets. But instead of the untidiness, what I see and feel when I look at these pictures is a sense of belonging.
Next time your worries are keeping you from relaxing in your own home, just think about a place — your childhood bedroom, your 12th grade girlfriend's smelly car, a teacher's classroom — that was imperfect and yet sparked so much joy. Your home is this place too. You might just need to zoom out a little.
(I absolutely stand by the vacuum filter tip with all my heart though.)