For the record, I don’t dislike cleaning, especially when I’m trying to sell my house.
I do dislike cleaning with one hand and a twenty-pound death-rolling alligator baby on my hip; kids who come along right after me with toothpaste sprayers and buckets of matchbox cars; and dogs with bloody toenails who can’t manage to take a dump outside the house.
All while I have flumonia and all while my husband is out of town.
My week has been tremendous. My butt has been sufficiently kicked.
But good news: I think I’m getting better–my fever is gone and my cough is not quite so alarming. None of the kids came down with the flu. Caleb made it back in town safely.
Our dryer has been repaired. Our thermostat has been replaced. And for a whopping $1300, my car should manage to make it ten minutes down the road without spewing green liquid all over kingdom come. (Thanks Obama.)
Life is good.
Here’s some pedestal sink action going on in the half-bath:
I have to find just the right mirror for this space and when we first started this whole process, that was exactly the kind of thing I was most excited about. Now? I care not–just put in a freakin’ mirror. Or don’t. Whatevs. Does someone anyone want to hunt down a cool mirror so my children will have something to fling toothpaste at twice a day?