Love Me, Love My House

I am having a very blue day. I can't seem to get on top of it and the least little thing just sends me into a tailspin. After the massive tidy we did this weekend to be ready for Grant's birthday party,the house has reverted to its natural, landfillesqe state. This is creating a tremendous amount of stress for me: though why I should complain about a lego-induced ankle sprain every time I walk through the living room is completely beyond the comprehension of the little perpetrators.
I feel trapped in this house, and the fact that the house is too small, and has been too small for some time now, is not making the claustrophobic feeling any better. Maggie woke us at 5:55 this morning -- that, thanks to one of my parents' dogs, who is staying with us for 10 days while they're on vacation. Barking at a quarter to 6 does tend to wake sleeping babies. It also wakes sleeping husbands, who then threaten to strangle said dog if it wakes him on any subsequent mornings. It is going to be a long 10 days. As if that weren't enough, my sister called and asked if we'd keep their hamster while they go on vacation for 10 days. Honestly, I could just see the veins bulging on Tim's forehead at the mere suggestion. Fortunately, she found someone else after I told her that I couldn't guarantee the hamster's safety (heck, I couldn't even guarantee I'd remember to feed it).
Now I am left feeling like I just can't get it all together. I can't seem to get on top of the house for more than a few hours and although it isn't an extension of my identity, it sure feels like one. So this is me: shabby, cramped, messy, frankly grimy in spots, perpetually disorganized and badly in need of repair/renovation.
Somewhere along the line I have lost something, some essential, critical part of myself. Somehow I've lost myself in the morass of laundry, mopping, dusting, bathroom-scrubbing and cooking.