This, this is the face I picture on the face of my home as I attempt to clean it.
Laughing, taunting, so smug, thrilled in having conquered, conquered me.
That’s right. I feel like my house is simply laughing as I scamper about continually picking up. Then, hysteria sets in if and when I decide I’m going to, not just pick up, but actually clean something. It feels like a constant battle. My house has recruited civilians, aka my husband and children, to join forces in my demise. Toys wander from the playroom and scatter like dust across every inch of down stairs. The clean laundry awaits hangers and drawers in baskets on my bedroom floor. My kitchen floor colects…stuff regaurdless of the times I sweep it daily.
Check out the rest of the post over at the homemaker’s challenge today!