I remember reading a blog post once about the seasons of life, in the context of home decorating. There is a time in your life when your walls are covered in band posters and your bookshelves stuffed with college textbooks. There is a time when 90% of your furniture is from Ikea, because that's what you can afford. There is a time when you can afford a real couch from a real furniture store, and you have moved from posters to actual art.
Then there is the season in which I am currently: the one where the living room floor is littered with plastic baby toys, the car seat box still sits in the corner because it is the best thing ever according to both baby and cat, and the coffee table has been completely cleared. The one where there is a giant hole in the living room ceiling because a pipe got lazy and decided not to contain water anymore.
This can be frustrating because I like everything in its place and just so; my knitting projects in plastic bins under the table aren't exactly aesthetically pleasing. But Mary lives here too, now, and I'm sure that not too far into the future I'll long for these days. So for now, the floor is cluttered, and that's ok.