I promised myself that today I would take care of two problems.
The living room.
I would obsess about nothing else today. Tackle those two and have a successful day.
I just went up there and couldn't do it.
The thing about kids' rooms is that you can make them clean them, but until you, the mom, go in there and take care of all the rinky-dink junky-junk around the perimeter, the room really just doesn't look clean. Oh, how I abhor that job. Because I see trash. I treat it as such. But the kids? They notice I've entered their rooms and they come supervise. And every piece of crap(visualize a strike through) treasure I lay my hands upon is at once declared priceless.
If it is so durn priceless, why has it been stored here in this crevice between the bed skirt and the wall for these last three months?
I can do this. I can.
If only I have a Pepsi first.