Thursday, November 11, 2010

Hey, Thursday? I'd like you much better if you were Friday.

My dining room looks like Hobby Lobby vomited everywhere. As someone who hates clutter of any kind (I'm not saying that my house is clutter-free, by any stretch of the imagination, but that has more to do with me not having the time to constantly pick up after a one-year old and two dogs who aren't happy unless every toy they own is spread out over the floor and less to do with my personal preferences.) (Also a factor? Steve's apparent blind spot when it comes to clutter...I don't understand it, but I know it's there, so I'm trying to deal with it in a more productive manner. Last night I actually asked him to pick up Brigid's toys instead of just sighing dramatically, and waiting for him to pick up on the dagger-like brain waves I was sending his way. Novel concept for me...), I'm surprisingly ok with this mess.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but, yeah, I. LOVE. CHRISTMAS.

It should be noted, though, that the minute a box gets emptied, it gets banished back to the basement. Like, IMMEDIATELY. I've already emptied and returned 3-4 boxes to their original spots. I mean, I don't want to get too crazy, here. I do have my limits.

Anyway, moving on, with absolutely no transition whatsoever...

I think I'm going to rip off every other site on the internet, and start a little something here called 'Flashback Friday'. Ok, I won't actually call it that, but flashing back is the general idea. I've been wanting to do this for awhile, but I keep putting it off, and I'm hoping that by actually writing this down, I'll force my hand a little. I have a journal that I started more or less the day I found out that I was pregnant, and I think I'd like to start retroactively posting some of those entries here. I like having this record of my life, and I like to think that someday Brigid will come here to learn just how crazy her mom really is (or, if she has already figured that out on her own, to have someplace to come for concrete evidence to prove her theory...). And I think she should know what a pain she was when I was pregnant, so when she sasses me as a teenager, I don't have to tell her what I went through for nine months, I can just point her in this direction.

Productivity and efficiency. I am all over it.

Besides, who doesn't want to hear about the first time I threw up at work, right?

1 comment:

  1. Just for the record...there were 4 books out of place and a stuffed animal on the ottoman...not quite what I would consider clutter...time to see a therapist about your problem, or start here:


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