I haven’t had any house guests in a while, which means all the inanimate objects have been having their wild parties again, unchecked. Little piles of clutter were everywhere. Papers, toys, books, wires. Why are there always wires everywhere? I think it’s men. I think that men attract wires like women attract hair do-dads. Every time I think I’ve finally weeded out all the extra wires in the house, more show up. We have reams of the things. What are they even for?
Last Saturday, I vowed to myself that by the time I left for Wendy’s Bunco party this coming Friday night, my house would be clutter free and dusted and vacuumed.
Tonight I met my clutter free goal. Well, except for the playroom, but that’s not really part of the house, since it was added later as an addition. (Do not study that logic too carefully.)
The last bastion of clutter was the staircase. There’s only one room up the stairs—the boy’s bedroom. They never go there in the day because they’re too scared. Actually, I’m a little scared up there, too, but I’ve always been a wimp like that. It was all my mother’s fault–remember? Remember how my mother used to tell me that the Hammer Wielding Hobo was gonna get me? Here. You should go back and read it. Oh, and look! Part 2 is even better.
Since we rarely use the staircase, it becomes an impromptu closet.
Picture of the day: The progress in Cleaning The Staircase:
The stuff at the bottom of the stairs is supposed to be there. They’re my art supplies. What? Don’t you keep your art supplies at the bottom of your staircase?