I've decided that being a "housewife" is like self-induced amnesia. For the life of me, I can not remember what exactly I did all day yesterday - but I know I did something because I dropped like a fly and fell asleep in the living room recliner at 9 o'clock (after sending my husband on a quest to find Chips Ahoy cookies and milk... which I ate an undisclosed amount of)! Yet, when I rise this morning... the house is in no better a state of tidiness for my efforts. What gives? 30 match-box cars in the living room floor, assorted shoes strewn about the house, someone dropped a crumb in the dining room floor (which has now been INVADED by 3 million ants... seriously guys... how about the early bird gets the worm and the rest of you little buggers stay outside?), a few dishes in the sink, and full laundry baskets.
I wonder if the housewives of old every felt like calling Merry Maids. Furthermore, I'm starting to suspect that my role models (JC and DR, seriously? read back a few entries) may have had some sort of chemical dependency that gave them such a pep in their steps. All the same, the show MUST go on. T-13 days until I leave on a 2.5 day trip with our oldest child to camp - which means I'll be entrusting the home and two younger kids to the husband, jinkies. I suspect one of two things shall happen: 1) The house will implode and I will return to find a pile of smoldering rubble, or 2) The house will survive, but be in some massive state of disarray when I return. I choose the first.
Today's Mission: Tackling the sock basket. Now, before you get all smug and start to look down upon my sock basket... admit that you do, too and get over yourself. If you don't have a sock basket, you're not a true patriot... I'm almost positive it's in the Constitution, Mayflower Compact, Treaty of Versailles, or something. Either way, it's going DOWN today!
Sincerely,
The Attempted Housewife
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