I'm attempting to deep clean the house for a party and going mad in the process. Mad I tell you! And it's not the kids fault that they are..you know...here. But the poor things end up being a casualty in the cleaning wars. I dangle their broken McDonalds toys over the garbage while they swear they NEED that one legged Shrek.
The house is actually in decent shape. It's rooms that no one will ever see that are getting under my skin. Like husband's workshop.
Or the laundry room where he stores all of his clothes. He stacks them up in big wobbly piles on the folding tables and hangs half buttoned shirts from the rafters. Not because he doesn't have closet space, he does. But because he prefers to have his clothes all spread out so they are easier to see. I can't tell you how badly I want to get a wide mouthed trash can and just sweep that whole ding dang thing in. But the dude works so hard if that's how he wants it I can't argue with him. I just grit my teeth and add another white tee shirt to the tottering pile.
But worst of all is the toilet. The random toilet that the previous owners installed in the middle of the laundry room. No sink. No walls. Just a toilet with a big plastic pipe next to it. So when someone flushes they can see the pipe shudder as their business gets pumped to craplandia.
I keep needing to walk into the rooms that I've finished so I can take deep breathes and admire the lack of mismatched socks and urine.
See that little plug-in by the rocker? That's Walmart's cotton scented knock off. Smells so good. At times like this I just sit in my rocker, close my eyes and sniff. Ahhhh. Ok, I better go let the kids out of the closet now.