Last week my parents were here.
I say that as my excuse to the fact that my house is a complete and total disaster.
It looks so neglected that if I listen closely I can hear it weeping.
I'm weeping too.
I have to clean this place, and unlike the video I can't summon little creatures to help. Drat. And to be brutally honest singing a "Happy Little Working Song" doesn't do much to make it more pleasant. Double drat.
I've heard it said that a dirty house is a sign of a life well lived. I don't really know if I totally buy that one but if it's true than this past week I lived life WELL!
I really did put things off because I didn't want to spend my time cleaning when I had family to visit with and I don't regret that. But people leave and then it's like, "WOW! How did all this happen!?!?" Yep, I'm there.
Thankfully, with a little elbow grease and get-to-itness (and maybe a little singing?) the house will be right again. And I'm OCD enough to push myself to get it done as quickly as possible just for the joy of the moment when it's all done and I have a nice, clean, put in order house again. For two seconds. Those two seconds however are worth it, such is my joy and sense of accomplishment.
And the icing on the cake is a husband who isn't asking me where his underwear is and if it will ever make it to the drawer again.
Poor guy.
Clutter, dirty laundry and dust bunnies here I come. You shall be vanquished and I shall reign victorious over you once more.
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