I’m Thankful For…

     Since I figure that most people will be too busy stuffing their faces with turkey to read my little old blog tomorrow, I decided to do my appreciation post today and take the day off to gorge myself alongside the rest of the country manana.  So, without further ado, here are some things for which I am grateful:

• I’m thankful for any shower I can take where a short person doesn’t come in and ask me about my boobs.
• I’m thankful for wine and its magical abilities to calm my very last nerve at the end of the day.
• I’m thankful for thongs that stay in their intended place.
• I’m thankful for the inventor of the dog crate.
• I’m thankful for makeup so I can hide the dark circles under my eyes on those rare days that I have the energy to put it on.
• I’m thankful for any time I can sit down to pee without all hell breaking loose outside the bathroom door.
• I’m thankful for copious amounts of caffeine that get me through my day.
• I’m thankful for duct tape…I have twins — enough said.
• I’m thankful for car trips where I can finally listen to something other than Kidz Bop.
• I’m thankful for stupid, mindless reality t.v. shows that make me feel so much better about my own lot in life.
• I’m thankful for individually packaged bags of Goldfish.
• I’m thankful for people who remember to flush the toilet in our house (the shit-eating dog isn’t so thankful for this).
• I’m thankful for wine…oh, whoops!  I already said that, didn’t I?!  (It’s obviously really important to me.)
• I’m thankful for Twitter where I can go to bitch and moan 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
• I’m thankful for that 8:50 a.m. bell at my kids’ school, bless its little heart.
• I’m thankful for the ass massager lady who knows just how to loosen up my kadunkadunk.
• I’m thankful that my true friends overlook the dust on my blinds.
• I’m thankful for pavement and being able to pound the shit out of it when I need to relieve stress.
• I’m thankful for candles that camouflage the putrid smell of dog farts in the air.
• I’m thankful that my kids believe pretty much everything I tell them.
• I’m thankful for my closet where I go to hide when I need to make an important phone call.
• I’m thankful for silence, even though I’ve completely forgotten what it sounds like.
• But most importantly, I’m thankful for my friends, for my health, and especially for my family who I love with all my heart.

Changing of the Guard

     

     I know I may complain about him being sloppy and about how much he procrastinates, but I gotta hand it to my hubby for steppin’ up to the plate this past weekend.  He must’ve realized that I was at the absolute end of my very frazzled rope with the new puppy and him being out of town ALL last week.  It was WAY more stress than I had envisioned, and I realize now in hindsight that the timing could not have been worse. I was like a shaken up bottle of Diet Coke just waiting to blow my top.

     Since I was so sleep deprived, the hubs took it upon himself to get up with both the dog and the kids at the first sign of day on both Saturday and Sunday.  He even herded them all to the backyard so the house would stay nice and quiet for me.  Good man. Mama needed her sleep, especially after that little rendezvous with Benadryl (necessary for the itchy bumps the dog hair caused me) and one too many glasses of Chardonnay.  He also spent a significant chunk of time trying to work on training the dog, only to come to the same conclusion as me — that we have, in fact,  purchased an insane baby alligator.  

     Now, that’s not to say that everything was all sunshine and rainbows.  The kids, of course, decided to make up for lost time with Daddy and show him how well they’ve learned to let things go in one ear and straight out the other.  I could hear his frustration mounting over having to repeat the same damn thing about two hundred and fifty thousand times.  Of course, I just sat back and observed because we all know that payback’s a bitch.  I was so glad that he was getting a little dose of just what all he’d been missing — one big happy, albeit apeshit, family.  

     I had to just overlook the fact that my kids were running around the backyard still wearing their pj’s well into the afternoon.  And I had to just bite my tongue and turn the other way when I saw that the pile of crap on the kitchen counter may very well have rivaled the Sears Tower in height.  And I had to just let it roll off my shoulders when my husband came back from the grocery store with quite possibly the cheapest toilet paper ever manufactured — seriously, we might as well just wipe our asses with sandpaper.  None of these things could overshadow the fact that the man was giving me a much needed breather.  I was so beyond grateful to have any kind of break whatsoever from the constant chaos that has become my life.

     My gratitude was only compounded after I ran into a friend of mine on Sunday who was complaining about her lazy husband.  She was out trying to run errands and said that he was literally calling her every three to four minutes to tell her to come home and feed the kids lunch.  She was on the verge of tears as she told me that she was really sorry but she needed to run.  I stood there in awe at the audacity of the whole ordeal.  Could the dude really not slop together a flippin’ pb&j for the kids?  Seriously, any moron can do that. Thank God my husband can not only make a mean pb&j, but he can also fire up some chicken nuggets in the microwave like nobody else’s business.  Now, he may not sail the boat exactly like I do, but at least he keeps it afloat long enough to give the captain a little catnap.

Front Load This

     No pun directly intended here, but I have to get back up on my soapbox again and complain about the utter disdain I feel for my washing machine.  It is a Maytag Neptune front loader and is without question on the road to becoming my ultimate nemesis, right behind all the poop which our new puppy seems to be full of.  Since I am all but married to the laundry around here, I have no choice but to come eye to eye with this clothes cleaning beast multiple times a day.

     When we went shopping for a new washer and dryer three years ago, we were completely smitten with the fancy bells and whistles of the front loading models. They just looked like they were bad asses, luring us to take a walk on the wild side. The salesman at the appliance store helped us to decide on the Maytag line, since it had such a reputable name behind it.  Plus, the commercials all claimed that their repair guys had nothing to do but sit on their rumps all day since nothing made by Maytag ever breaks.  We explained to the man that our laundry area had wood floors, which he claimed would not at all be a problem for the fancy front loaders. We also explained that I probably would do more laundry in a week than most laundry mats do in a month, so we needed something extremely durable.  He reassured us that these machines would not only be more energy efficient but also hold even larger loads. Homeboy was willing to say and do whatever he could to bring home his bacon.  He was all but giving us a lap dance to seal this deal.

     At first, we were in love.  Our new washer and dryer seemed amazing.  I even found myself mesmerized by the swooshing and swushing of the water through the super cool see-through door on the washing machine.  And the dryer seemed to be able to dry however big a load I crammed in there.  I felt confident that the ridiculous amount of money we’d spent on this machinery was well worth every penny since we were knocking out massive amounts of dirty clothes and helping the environment to boot.  

     This honeymoon phase did not last long, however.  Over time our love turned sour and eventually switched over to hatred.  The washer now rumbles and tumbles so much that the machine actually moves out from the wall.  It sounds like the house is going to lift off to outer space when it gets to the spin cycle.  I have to forewarn company when I’m doing laundry so they don’t mistake our house for the Kennedy Space Center.  I’m constantly having to wiggle the monstrous thing back against the wall because it literally dances all the way out into the middle of the hallway.  My husband has tried to balance it more times than I can count, but it always gets off kilter again.  I’ve had service guys out here at least three times now, and I fully expected them to show up here in their little blue uniforms from the commercials jumping at the chance for some work to do.  Instead, they all just acted like I was a moron for buying a machine that was never intended for a wood floor in the first place.  Yeah, thanks a lot Mr. Money Shakin’ appliance store sales guy for feeding us a big, fat line of crap.

     Ungodly vibrations are not the only problem I have with the washer either.  The super cool see-through door has a rubber piece on the inside of it that is a breeding ground for mold.  And I’m not just talking about ugly-looking mold.  I’m talking about ugly-looking, smelly mold.  Who in their right mind wants to wash their dirty clothes and have them come out smelling worse than they did before?  I’ve had to wash loads several times before to be sure they smell like the more expensive high-efficiency detergent I’m required  to buy for the damn thing.  So much for the environmentally friendly feature of conserving water!  I have used more bleach on that friggin’ door trying to get that moldy smell out of there.  After researching online, I found out that Maytag has since corrected this problem on their more current models, which doesn’t do me jack-crap of good.

     Then, we have my loathing for the dryer, which was supposed to dry clothes more efficiently, therefore conserving energy.  Well, when you have to dry the same load of clothes THREE times, I’m not thinking you’re saving a whole lot of energy there.  I’ve also had service men come out for this problem, but it still persists.  I’ve just learned that things like jeans and pants may take two cycles in the dryer.  Yep, our gas company loves us.  

     You’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here bitching about all of this when we could’ve taken care of these issues with an extended warranty package.  Why, yes, we very well could have, IF WE WOULD HAVE PURCHASED ONE!  Mr. Money Maker sales guy had gotten us so hot and bothered over the wonders of Maytag that we didn’t think we’d need one.  We certainly learned our lesson, but I’m still stuck with a washer that’s ready for lift off and a dryer that won’t dry.  Awesome.

The Hot Dad

     

     Get a group of stay at home moms together, and it doesn’t take much to snap our attention out of the Groundhog Day routine that otherwise consumes our daily lives, especially when the distraction comes in the form of a hot dad on a Harley.  Call it pathetic; call it cheap; call it what you will. But, it’s a little hard not to notice a buff-looking hunk of a man amongst a sea of overly exhausted mamas.

     One day this summer when I sat in the carpool line waiting to drop my twins off at camp, I heard the revving of an engine somewhere in the not-too-far-off distance.  When I glanced in my rearview mirror, I was suprised to see that there was a Harley crammed right into the row of minivans behind me. I was even more surprised to see that the driver was a very tanned, very toned and very H-O-T dad who appeared to be dropping off his son, as well.  I had never seen this guy there before, because believe me, I would most certainly have remembered him.  I immediately asked my kids if they knew the little boy, and, unfortunately, they didn’t have a clue who he was.  When motorcycle man pulled up to drop off his little guy, all the camp counselors erupted into applause.  Judging from the gigantic smile on the kid’s face, he must’ve felt like the coolest kid on the planet making an entrance like that.  He got everyone’s attention, that’s for damn-tootin’ sure.  I never found out who the kid was, and I never saw Hot Dad again after that…until last week, that is.

     Since the elementary school is only a few blocks from our house, we typically walk to school every day.  As I was walking with the kids one morning last week, my neighbor down the street told me she wanted to introduce a new dad to me.  I honestly didn’t think a thing of it because I guess I just assumed it would be a regular average-looking Joe.  When we got up to the school, I was busy kissing the kids goodbye when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my neighbor was walking in my direction. My jaw practically hit the ground when I turned around and came face to face with none other than Hot Dad!  I rubbed my eyes to be sure what I was seeing, and I think I may have even gasped out loud.  My neighbor introduced him to me and told me that he was her soon-to-be brother-in-law.  It took a minute for me to actually process this turn of events, but I finally put two and two together and realized that this was most definitely the dude on the Harley.  I asked him if he’d taken a little boy to camp on his motorcycle, and he blushed, asking me if I’d heard all the cheering.  (I wanted to tell him that yes, I was cheering right along with them!)  What’s even more ironic is that he used to be a personal trainer at my gym, and he said he recognized me from there. Of course, it only made sense that Hot Dad was a gym buff who worked hard to get a body that looked like that, right?!

     As I stood there talking to this extremely friendly (and don’t forget extremely H-O-T) guy, I couldn’t help but notice that every mom’s head had practically fallen off her body trying to get a load of this tasty piece of eye candy.  When you’re used to seeing the same group of women with an occasional hum-drum dad thrown in the mix every single day in and day out, a fetching foreign specimen such as the likes of Hot Dad is gonna cause quite a stir.  It’s like throwing a vial of blood into a swarm of mosquitos.  I ended up meeting his fiancee a few days later, who, naturally, is just as gorgeous and just as sweet as he is.  They truly are a beautiful couple, I must admit. And even though they take turns dropping the little boy off at school, I still have the off-hand chance of catching a glimpse of Hot Dad.  I’m usually slow-going in the mornings, but the prospect of running into him should most definitely put a little pep in this mama’s step.

Back To School

     

     When the packets with the class lists first came in the mail, I got a big lump in my throat.  And when I read through all the welcome information from the teachers, I thought I might cry. How is it possible that my babies will be starting FIRST GRADE tomorrow?!  The thought of finally being an empty nester during the day made me feel a bit weepy.  I wondered if I might get a little lonely without the constant sounds of my little companions.  And what on earth would I do with all that free time on my hands?  (Heh!)  But, then, my real life sucker punched me in the gut, and my kids started in with their end-of-the-summer screaming and yelling and pushing and shoving, and I realized that I very well might just go off the deep end if everybody doesn’t get back into some kind of groove as quickly as humanly possible.

    And I know I’m not alone in this sense of urgency.  Everywhere we go, I can see it on the faces of every mother we encounter.  We are all ready for our kids to get the hell out of our hair for a few hours at the very least. Our sanity is counting on it.  When we were at the beach yesterday, a few of the other moms and I were just sitting there in awe at the sight before us.  Kids were running in little packs here and there and everywhere like a bunch of wild banshees.  It looked like a scene straight out of Lord of the Flies.  I half expected a group of them to come tearing through at any minute with a sacrificial pig on a stick.  You could just feel an uncontrollable hyper energy in the air.  I even made my kids leave the playground area at one time because the behavior that I saw being demonstrated by the older kids there was borderline savage.  There was no doubt in my mind that someone would end up hurt.

     And it seems that every mom I know has succumbed to wearing her black and white striped uniform on a daily basis as the summer winds to an end. Sibling rivalry is at its all-time high, and brothers and sisters are on the verge of outright killing each other.  Everyone is overly tired and just plain bored with each other.  As much as my kids would like to think I can, I simply cannot be a 24/7 entertainment director.  I’ve got too much other crap to do!  I need someone else to step up to the plate and provide my kids with distractions so that they don’t beat the tar out of each other.  

     The bottom line is that kids, just like adults, need routine — we can all be better organized and accomplish a whole lot more if we know what to expect.  With us being gone for a week to visit the grandparents and then my husband’s stupid “staycation” last week, things could not be more chaotic around here. I honestly don’t know if I’m coming or going half the time.  We need more stability and order up in here, and thank God I can count on the teachers to help out in that department for the next nine or so months.  My bag of tricks is empty, and I’ve got nothing left up my sleeve.  It’s time for the reinforcements, baby.  Ring that damn tardy bell already!

**As a side note, don’t you wonder why all the moms in the cartoon up above have ENORMOUS knockers??!!

The Staycation

     

     My hubby is taking the week off from work this week, and in the spirit of trying to save a buck or two in this crappy economy, he came up with the cheapskate brilliant idea of a “staycation” for our family. Now, personally, I despise that stupid term, because it truly makes no sense to me whatsoever. How can you be on vacation if you stay at home??!!  It totally contradicts itself, if you ask me.

     Being a stay at home mom, I, especially, don’t seem to benefit much at all from this whole “staycation” idea.  Since I will never really be leaving my office, I will always be staring at my work.  There will still be laundry to pile up, dishes to clean, and floors to sweep.  I have a really hard time just flat-out ignoring those things.  My hubby gets to physically leave his work downtown while mine is flipping me the middle finger all week long!  I ask you, where is the fairness in that??!!

     And to prove this case in point, guess what I did on Day One of this little “staycation?”  I spent three hours in the basement trying to create some kind of organized order to the chaotic disarray of toys, dvd’s and video games that seem to have exploded all over the floor down there.  I know, I know, you’re all probably jealous right now at the thought of such an exciting way to spend an afternoon.  I do have to give credit where credit is due though and say that my hubby did go down in the trenches with me and help to put a dent in the huge wreck of a mess.  Nothing says vacation like a nose full of dust and five trash bags full of broken toys, does it?  Good times.  Good times.

     We do have some fun things planned to do with the kids this week, which will help to suspend my disbelief that we are not really on any type of getaway whatsoever.  For example, today we are going to a little kiddie amusement park for the whole afternoon.  It’s close to an hour’s drive away, so I guess we will technically be out of town today. However, there’s still the looming completion of the basement-clean up project, as well as a thousand other things around here to snap me back into the reality of the situation. I’m still doing all the things I’d normally be doing, while the hubs is the one who’s “on vacation.” Some “staycation.”  I’m asking for an I.O.U…..

Rip Off

     Yesterday started out to be kind of a weird, hazy day weather-wise, so I decided to take the kids to the movies, something we haven’t done in a very LONG time. They wanted to see that movie “G-Force” with the secret agent guinea pigs. Typically, I love going to the movies with the kids because it’s just them and me, without any interruptions. They’ll often snuggle close and lean their heads on my shoulder. Those are precious moments to me, because I don’t know how much longer I’ll get them.  The one thing that somewhat spoiled the mood yesterday, though, was the cost for this warm and fuzzy moment. I had forgotten how ridiculously EXPENSIVE it is to go to the movies!  

     When the man at the ticket counter told me that it would be almost $21.00 for one adult and two kids, I thought I misunderstood him.  It was 1:00 in the afternoon, for cripe’s sakes — what ever happened to the “cheap” show??!!  I’m sure I’ll probably sound like my grandma by saying this, but I remember when it was only $2.00 to see a matinee!  Don’t the movie makers realize that the economy SUCKS right now, and that most people don’t have this kind of money to fork over on a random Tuesday afternoon to see any movie, much less a kids’ flick?  Nevertheless, I collected our tickets, and we proceeded to the next money-sucking counter, otherwise known as the concession stand.

     We ordered a medium Diet Coke for me and two kids’ popcorn packs, which included a teensy-tiny bag of popcorn, a small drink, and a bag of some kind of nasty-ass fruit chew things (which my kids didn’t even touch). The total cost — another $21.00!! I could not even believe that I had dropped over forty bucks in less than ten minutes, all for the opportunity to sit for less than an hour and a half in front of a very large screen filled with talking guinea pigs.  I’m all for cozy snuggle fests with my kids, but this was a little over-the-top.  I mean, I could’ve bought two whole dvd’s for the cost of this movie adventure!  

     I think next time, we’ll play it smarter and come better prepared. We might just be THAT family who sneaks in their own popcorn and drinks in mama’s oversized purse.  Hell, if it saves us $21.00, why not?  Someone needs to send these people a message!

Laundry Booty

     When I open the door to the washing machine after finishing a load, I’m never quite sure what I’ll find in addition to the clothes.  It seems that my family has a nasty habit of shoving things in their pockets and not removing them before putting them in the dirty clothes.  I have found all kinds of random stash, all of which most certainly does not belong inside a pile of clean clothes.

     My husband is usually guilty of a piggy bank’s worth of coins stuffed in his pants’ pockets.  My kids then fight over who is the so-called “finder-keeper” of the spare change.  He’s also been known to leave business cards and golf tees in his pockets, as well as the occasional piece of gum or candy. The one that probably infuriated me the most was when he left a tube of lip balm in his pants that later melted in the dryer, creating huge grease stains all over a pair of my Juicy sweatpants — SOOOOO NOT COOL.

     My daughter’s usual hoarded item is wadded up Kleenex.  As most of you know, the washer does a serious number on destroying these said tissues and picking off all the teensy, tiny pieces that get stuck to EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF CLOTHING is not really what I consider to be a good time. My son is even worse about cramming his pockets full of oddball little “treasures.”  I’ve found dead bugs, rocks, grass, seashells, crab apples, and remnants of what used to be leaves scattered throughout my washing machine.  

     I thought I’d seen it all, but yesterday, I found yet another foreigner in my otherwise clean load of clothes.  As I was transferring the wet clothes to the dryer, little berries kept tumbling out onto the floor.  They looked like little green peas and seemed to be multiplying right before my eyes.  Some of them were connected by a stem in a bunch, but many of them were just single berries that ended up covering my floor.  What the hell were these stupid things and where in the world did they come from?  My son, of course, played the oblivion card and acted like he’d never seen them before, but my daughter, little Miss Tattle-Tale herself, told me that he’d picked them from the park at camp and filled the pockets of his swim trunks with them to bring home.  And, lucky me, I got to spend the next twenty minutes picking them out of every crevice of my laundry room area.

     I know what you’re thinking — why the hell don’t you just check everybody’s pockets BEFORE you throw them in the wash, lady?  Are you nucking futs or what?   The answer, as you well know, is yes, I am!  But, also, in my defense, I have an unbearable amount of laundry to do on a daily basis and simply don’t have the time, or quite frankly, the desire to check every piece of clothing.  I’m just too tired for all that.  So, I guess I’ll continue to be surprised about the random pieces of crap that come flying out of my washing machine.  My world is just so full of wonder and awe, isn’t it??!!

25 Things I Love About Summer

     Unfortunately, where we live, the summer goes by in the blink of an eye. Cold, gloomy weather dominates much of the year for us, so we try to soak up the summer sun as much as we possibly can for the short amount of time that it’s with us.  I’m starting to get sad that it’s already halfway over! There are SO many things I love about this time of year, so, now, I proudly present to you…25 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT SUMMER:

1.  Chilling at the beach with other moms while the kids all run around in a little wolf-pack the whole afternoon.

2.  Lazy mornings where we stay in our pj’s till almost lunchtime, simply because we can.

3.  Grilling out — doesn’t EVERYTHING just taste better when it’s grilled?!

4.  Being able to run pretty much any and all errands in nothing but my swimsuit and cover-up.

5.  Having the kids eat dinner on the patio so that the squirrels can clean up all the dropped crumbs for a change instead of me.

6.  Watching my kids entertain themselves for hours in the backyard with nothing but a broken tree branch.

7.  Lemonade stands and seeing all the little neighborhood entrepreneurs hard at work.

8.  Being able to go for a run outside without having to wear a thousand different layers for warmth.

9.  Knowing that those filthy dirty little piggies on my kids’ feet at night are the result of a helluva lot of fun.

10.  Going for ice cream and watching the chocolate drip down my kids’ happy faces.

11.  Bike rides to the park, even if they result in bloody knees and even more band-aids.

12.  Driving with the windows down in the car and watching my kids howl with laughter while the wind whips their hair.

13.  The peaceful sound of the locusts in all the big trees we have around our house.

14.  Finally seeing all our neighbors out and about, who are, like me, usually hibernating all winter long.

15.  Our Fourth of July party in the backyard — exhausting but tons o’ fun.

16.  Eating my hubby’s homemade guacamole and drinking margaritas.

17.  Less sickness and viruses among my kids — so nice to have a break from all that.

18.  Picnic lunches — pb&j’s for everyone (me included)!

19.  Summer camps — hey, mama needs a break sometimes!

20.  Watching my kids’ faces light up like crazy when they run into one of their teachers, who really do have lives outside of school, much to the delight/confusion of my kids.

21.  Longer visits at Grammy’s house — more QT together is always a bonus.

22.  Chasing after my kids through the beauty that is the Botanic Gardens.

23.  Fresh blueberries — my memory needs all the help it can get!

24.  Flip-flops!  Need I say more?!

25.  Spending as much time as possible with my kids before they’re all grown up right before my very own eyes.

June Cleaver: You Can Kiss My Ass

     Today is a day that I am seriously considering going on strike.  I swear I work my fingers to the bone around here, and you can’t tell a bit of a difference. I clean up one mess just in time to turn around and find another. How in the world did June Cleaver make it all look so easy with her plastered on smile and her sparkly pearls?  I am convinced that she was popping happy pills, because I don’t know a single stay at home mom who likes her job that much.

      Over the weekend, I spent a solid two hours organizing my daughter’s bedroom into some type of functioning order.  The child had completely trashed the place with doll clothes, stuffed animals, jewelry and books shoved into every conceivable space.  I even went out and bought yet another cute pink storage container from Pottery Barn Kids to try to control some of the clutter.  I had that room looking spic and span by the time I was finished with it.  But after spending some alone time in her room yesterday afternoon, my daughter had yet again managed to restore chaos to an otherwise peaceful environment.  I couldn’t believe how much damage she had done in such a short amount of time.  I was livid that all my hard work was apparently, a big, fat waste of time.  She was very upset to learn that she would not be getting her allowance this weekend. (Actually, I think I’m the one that should be getting the weekly allowance anyway!)

     My daughter is not the only person in this house with whom I have a bone to pick.  My husband, the world’s biggest piler, has once again accumulated an enormous stack of crap on the kitchen counter.  About a year ago, I bought a cute decorative box to keep his mail in, so that it wouldn’t take up countertop space.  Unfortunately, though, he has decided that the cute little decorative box is his own personal file cabinet.  He opens his mail and then shoves it back in the box again, never leaving room for the new bills that come.  So, I’m left with no other choice but to stack them up next to the box, thus defeating the whole purpose of the box! He promised me over the weekend that he would finally go through the box once and for all.  But by the time Sunday night rolled around, guess what was still sitting crammed full of crap, front and center on the kitchen countertop? Needless to say, I went to bed more than just a little irritated.  When I got up Monday morning, however, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the box was finally gone from the kitchen.  Hooray! He had actually listened and must’ve gone through the pile before leaving for work. Naturally, though, this feeling of relief didn’t last that long.  I later found the stupid box shoved under another pile of crap on my husband’s side of our closet upstairs!  Moving the jam-packed cute little decorative box to another location in the house is not really what I consider organizing.  I let him have it later that evening, but I noticed today that the box is still sitting in the closet — 3 days later!

     I’ve often thought about what they’d all do if I just gave up and let the house go.  Would anyone even notice?  Would they care that all their clothes were dirty or that the dust bunnies had turned into the size of real bunnies? Deep down, I already know the answer.  They probably wouldn’t really be bothered, and I am the one who would go crazy.  And, really, how much more nucking futs can I get??!!  Maybe Mrs. Cleaver could lend me some of her happy pills….