With two kids under the age of six running around, the clutter in our house was inevitable. But that doesn't mean I like it.
At 7 a.m., I woke up determined to clean up. If it's any indication of how messy our place has gotten, more than 15 hours of non-stop cleaning later, I'm not even halfway done straightening up our not-even-remotely-enormous house. And it ain't like I've been taking breaks (other than to hungrily devour the meals M whipped up); I haven't even showered or changed today. Seriously -- I'm still in the same pajamas I woke up in. And I'm getting kind of stinky.
My singular focus on de-crapifying our house also means I have nothing of interest to post about, unless you want to read about the seventeen humongous bags of useless old toys and clothes I've collected that are now sitting in our guest room, waiting for me to chuck 'em out.
Come back tomorrow -- if nothing else, I'll write about how sore I got from picking up Legos and Star Wars action figures all day.
