Well, the kids are asleep, and you'd think the adults would be doing something at least as thrilling as watching hockey with a bowl of popcorn, but G's on his computer, mumbling about printing something or other, and I'm on mine, ignoring him. But at least we're in the same room. That counts for something, right? It's downright romantic, in my world.
I'm about to continue this wild and crazy Saturday evening by going upstairs to finish
cleaning our bedroom - a job that I started at 11am today, about 10 hours ago. Yes, my progress
is slow, and I'm now in trouble because G just commented that he's
not feeling well and may go to bed early, which means I need to run up
and move the massive piles of clothes off our bed, and make pathways
through the disarray so he doesn't trip.
Disarray? What disarray? No, in fact, there's an organisation to it
all.... if organised = various piles that take up every available space, piles that I've mentally labelled with
names like "Not Sure What To Do With," "Keep or Not?" "Clean Laundry
that Has Taken Me So Long to Fold that I Now Consider it Re-Dirtied, So
I'm Washing it All Again," and "Random Items That Go With Something
Else, But I Don't Know What."
Now my challenge is going up and actually dealing with some of those piles, rather than adding new ones.
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