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Welcome to My Nightmare

Right now I'm having flashbacks to the days when my parents would storm into my bedroom once a year with trash bags and threats of sending me to a homeless shelter and make me clean the train wreck that was my bedroom. I'd end up spending the entire day in there, sorting all my junk into piles of clothes, stuffed animals, books, papers to keep, and papers that if I have to throw away something can go. Inevitably, I'd reach the end of the project and sit in the middle of the floor with my one last cubic foot of "stuff" and cry. It's not that I was sad to be finished. It was that that last little bit just confounded me like a Cubist painting. Nothing seemed to make sense enough to sort.

Yeah, my house is like that right now. That's why I'm on the computer right now. I've actually cleaned off about half of the stuff that was on the coffee table this morning. (The dogs are a real help.)

The kitchen is coming along. I actually have four cabinets cleared now.

My idea was to store the boxes as I filled them in our guest room.

Having to give a dog this kind of medicine certainly doesn't add to the fun.


I'm also trying to clean out the freezer, and that's a story in itself. At least today's surprise label cracked me up. I never forget to stir, but enjoying the flavors of frozen tuna casserole on my tongue might slip my mind.

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Christy said…
Poor puppy!
I always was like that cleaning my room, too. That last pile of stuff never made any sense at all.
6:08 PM
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