Clean Room

Today, I cleaned.

My house wasn't dirty. And, really, besides last night's late arrival home and dumpage of stuff, it really wasn't even that messy. But we've had these piles of weird things all over our house for months and it was starting to drive me batty because I just don't like mess. Or clutter. Or the appearance of mess or clutter. It really does make me crazy.



So, I cleaned. For, like, four or five hours. And guess what-- I got one room clean. One! That's how much junk there was to organize. One room!

But hey, guess what. That one room-- our bedroom--is stinkin' or-gan-IZED. Man, is it ever clean. The pile of books ready to topple to the floor on each of our night stands? Gone. The random piles of maternity clothes around our bedroom? Packed away and returned. (Except for yours, Erin; you're getting your stuff back the very next time I see you, not like the last time I was going to give them to you when I saw you. Or the time before that.) The stacks of coins and random tickets and scraps of paper are gone, gone, gone.




So, while I am a little concerned about how it took me an entire freaking DAY to clean our bedroom which, I have to tell you, prior to today wasn't really MESSY so much as it was cluttered, still, I am happy it's done. I am bummed more rooms in my house aren't stinkin' or-gan-IZED; I'll just have to seek solace in that one room that is cleaned to my liking. And maybe I'll just tell the kids that can't go in there. Ever.

Kidding.

Sort of.