Dirty Little Socks

I'm convinced that if I were to choke on a grape and die tomorrow (knocked on wood after typing that), that within a year, my home would be on an episode of Hoarders.
Everyone here seems to suffer from a horrible case of "not-gonna-pick-nuthin-up-itis."
I understand that as the adult who is home all of the time, I'm more responsible for the upkeep of the home and it's tidiness. 
But would it really kill someone around here to pick up some shit?!
I don't play with Strawberry Shortcake figurines or plastic lemons, but they seem to be my responsibility to clean up from the floor. 
The girls will pick up things AFTER I mention it for the 1 gajillionth time and then threaten to haul it all to the garbage can.
Yes, it's something all parents seem to struggle with and they will learn of my Type A personality some day.
The other adult in the house, I don't know what his issue is.
Blindness?
Male Pattern Blindness?
I think that's what it is.
He's not Type A, that's for sure. 
He's what I like to call Type L.
I won't elaborate on that, though.
IT'S A JOKE, CHAD!  Calm down! 
Anywho, I conducted a bit of an experiment the other day.
I placed a pair of Gigi's dirty socks that I found strewn in the hallway into a quaint little stack in the direct line of traffic and watched to see how long it took for someone to pick them up.
They were stepped on and over, kicked into different directions.
I would replace them in their spot and watch them again get walked on and over and kicked.
Replace.
Repeat.
Replace.
Repeat.
After 2 1/2 hours, by some divine intervention, Chad stopped, stooped, and picked up the dirty little socks and threw them into the laundry room.
Amazing.
Well, not really.
Not long before the stop and stoop, I declared "I'm conducting an experiment in this house and you are all failing miserably!"
That must have gotten his attention.  
No one else figured it out.
So, if I do happen to leave this earth before the children have moved out, please check on them and the state of my house.
I don't want to be embarrassed by having the piles of junk that reach the ceiling exposed on TLC. 
    

just so you know,
those little pieces of cardboard
on the floor from the
cat scratcher thingy drive me crazy!