So I have a confession to make. Well, not so much a confession, because that would imply that it's something I have tried to hide. And I haven't tried to hide this, ever. But I am in the process of trying to tidy up my house and I despise it. I don't mean that in a "I don't like liver and onions" kind of sense. I mean it in a "what the heck was I thinking when I bought a house?" kind of sense. My husband is going to be spending all day Saturday with the kids because I have a scrapbook thing to attend, and he has invited his family down from Jacksonville to watch football at our house while I'm gone. That means, company.
Now, we aren't complete slobs. We have a place for everything, but everything is just not in its place. So it's my job today to work on getting everything moved around so that tomorrow I can work on the "stash and dash." Oh, come on, everyone does it once in a while. Company's coming, they'll be here in 30 minutes, and you take whatever is left lying around the living room and stuff it in a laundry basket to hide in the office or den or your bedroom closet. I've perfected this art...I just can't disclose how many laundry baskets I've stashed and not unstashed. Steve actually has put a stop to this by telling me I'm not allowed to buy any more laundry baskets, so every now and then I actually clean one out in order to use it for actual LAUNDRY (yet another thing I also despise, by the way). He laughs because whenever I sort out the junk that is in one and come out with a clean, empty basket, he takes a guess at how long it will be before it's "out of service" again.
I told a friend recently about this problem I seem to have, and she said (in that kind, loving way a friend has), "Oh, it can't be that bad. And you have two toddlers, so no one can blame you if your house isn't spotless." Ha! If I could blame the kids for some of the junk that I find lying around, I would. Unfortunately I suffer from packrat-itis, and I'm terribly paranoid of identity theft (since it happened to us earlier this year), so I don't throw much away. We have junk mail that I have every intention of shredding, I just need about a week of uninterrupted time to sit on the couch and feed it to the shredder. I just can't bring myself to throw it in the garbage, for fear that someone will find it and all of a sudden I get a bill for a Mastercard I don't own.
When we had new carpet installed in July, we had to move all of the furniture out of our living room. That also included the entertainment center, which is usually full of knick-knacks and dust collectors. My parents gave me the bright idea of taking them all and putting them up on the plant shelf in our living room, way up high so they couldn't get lost or broken. That was in JULY. I'm very ashamed to say that they're still up there. Come on people, it's October already. What is wrong with me? Hey, at least my folks gave me a good suggestion on where to store them...otherwise they would have ended up crammed into an unsuspecting laundry basket.
It's been a while
5 years ago