Positive or Negative?

There are always two ways to see things, and for my writing assignment I decided I would dig a little deeper into that. Here are 2 ways to see a normal every day night in the George family home. Or at least this is how I could see things.. usually it is a mixture of the two... What do you think?
View#1
As the fiery red, orange, and yellow sun begins to position itself in the dull, lackluster western sky, my day quickly and fluidly comes to an abrupt close. The crimson sky is equivalent to the temperature and sensation of my exhausted, famished body. I sit on my second-hand, beaten-up tan couch as I look around my ordinary, lackluster rust-colored apartment, dog-tired. To my left the bay window is covered with a mess of crusted, black and white cookie bits leftover from my son when he was eating . Toys are scattered about my polluted living room floor, making it an impossible obstacle course to maneuver through. You could make your way through a landmine more safely than crossing my floor without being injured by a misplaced toy. I stub my toe on a blue stuffed puppy-dog that begins to sing the ABC’s. I hastily turn the irritating stuffed toy off, avoiding disturbing my sleeping baby boy in the next room. It took over an hour to get him from the bathtub to bed, and waking him up now could mean the end of the few infinitesimal minutes I get to myself every night. The off white almost mushroom beige colored carpet that the toys are layered upon hasn’t been vacuumed in more than a week. It seems as if anyone could pick out the dog hairs and filth nestled in the carpet fibers from space. There is dust covering almost every surface in my undersized, over-cramped apartment creating a uniformed blanket of grey. The kitchen is before me, and the cheaply made laminate counters are plastered with a mixture of dirty, soiled dishes and a surplus of leftover rotting food that creates a powerful odor and could knock you down if you are not prepared by holding your breath . The sink is stacked to the rim like a land field of garbage with used bottles and dishes from the day. Trash is overflowing with useless, unwanted junk. My husband made spaghetti noodles for my son right before he left to work, and now my son’s high chair has stained red, dried spaghetti noodles all over it, and covering the floor below the chair. Now I begin to think how long it will be until I am able to contain the mess that is before me. My day began early this morning and now I know it will end extremely late. I should have been cleaning during the day, but there never was any time. Again, I am sitting on my old, previously owned couch; exhausted, fatigued, and beat.

View #2
As the stunning picture perfect summer sun cast a rainbow of fine colors against the western mountains and sky, my day, unfortunately, comes to a close. The intense colors of the heavens in the sky calm me as if they are a magnificent symphony drawing to a close and invoking my every emotion and becoming more beautiful with each passing minute as the music silently drifts to an end. I grudgingly pull myself away from the awe inspiring sunset in the west as I sit on my previously loved, long-standing coffee-colored couch that hugs me just the right way as it clasps to enfold me it its chubby cotton pillow worn perfectly with age. As I look to my left I am reminded of how blissful my jovial eleven-month old son was when I gave him a mouth-watering, appealing Oreo cookie, and he proceeded to paint my window with his tasty flavorsome treat. His toys are covering my floor with enough amusement and joy to have entertained a little one for days , and I am reminded of his angelic laughter as he proceeded to dump every toy he had on the floor, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him when I saw how pleased and satisfied he was with himself. I begin to walk and I suddenly trip over and set off one of his favorite sing-a-long, cobalt-colored, stuffed puppy-dog toys. I shut it off speedily without delay and I can hear my sweet innocent baby boy breathing in the next room. Before my adorable worn-out son went to bed he played exhaustedly in the tub for over an hour and took another hour to fall asleep, so I quickly tip toe towards the kitchen so I can allow him all of his much needed sleep. The kitchen in front of me is overflowing with dishes, trash, and leftovers, but as I look around my humble hallowed apartment I can’t help but feel the love that is radiating off of all four petite white-washed walls. I think of all the time I spent throughout my day playing, laughing, and engaged with my family instead of cleaning my well deserving home. When I see the dishes stacked high in my kitchen I instead think of my cheerful abode where lots of pleasurable and delightful memories were created. I see my son’s vivid green high chair covered in red spaghetti with the fragrance of garlic in the room and am reminded of how satisfied it made my ecstatic husband to see his infant son being able to feed himself quite flawlessly, as he would describe, for the first time. I remember every moment that he proudly recorded on our new silver family camcorder that we got as a gift for Christmas when we were still anxiously awaiting the arrival of our little boy. I will ruminate joyfully as I spend the rest of my tranquil night cleaning. I again sit on my couch and I see my apartment for the beautiful, lived-in, and perfect place that it is. This is my home.