So between the deciding what to do with my life and the lithium thing and the mom thing and the blah blah blah getting an income going thing, the tidiness of Chez BLC has fallen off more than a tad. And I was a lousy housekeeper to begin with, though I will say that things may be cluttered, disorganized and dusty– but they are never DIRTY, except maybe for the toilet sometimes. Sometimes. But recently, I’ve sunk to new lows. For example, last week was the first time in three months that I swiffered or dusted, and the dried and crunchy food prep detritus on the kitchen floor was starting to organize elections to oust me from the kitchen. But when I saw that Mrs. Chicken was having a contest, I had to enter, even though, it’s a contest where:
So, Mrs. C, I submit two equally dismaying entries for your consideration.
First up, the bills, which live in the dining room– on the table,
and also bundled up by owner, me or the BH, and stashed to the side on a bookcase in the dining room…
Pretty scary. Who knows what inheritance from a long lost uncle lies therein?
But I think the piece of resistance (no really, I am so resisting cleaning this room) is the back room, which is my closet, our guest room, my office, and current the site of dry cleaning galore, only half-put-away-Christmas ornaments and their boxes, boxes of summer and winter storage clothes that need to go to the basement, laundry laundry always laundry, dry cleaning, and about six boxes of stuff from my old job that needs to be sorted, shelved, and/or tossed. I get hives thinking about it. Fortunately, the only person who visits us these days is my best friend A., and she never minds the towering piles of clutter on the other side of the room. Behold:
and last but not least,
Yep. I am a slob. But I do promise that if you come over for dinner, the kitchen equipment is all clean, and the food is damned tasty. So come on over, just please, don’t open the closets, or touch the door to the back room. It’s a doozy.
Mrs. C., do I win?