I have officially resigned from toilet cleaning duties for the next 18 years. Since Ryan is SOOOO thrilled to have 2 boys (so much that he teases that we for sure are having a third…. possibly fourth… someday) that I am handing the piss soaked rag over to him to clean the missed-toilet drips from down and around the porcelain god. Porter now stands to pee (ugh) and while he’s pretty darn good at his aim I am beginning to think his middle of the night and early morning runs are, well, runs. I am weeping for my grout as I’m not sure it will ever be the same again.
My house disgusts me. I’d be horrified to have company over. I can’t remember the last time I cleaned the bathroom. Seriously. I can. not. remember. I bet my mom or grandma, who occasionally would clean the bathrooms for us during the school year while we both worked, would probably have a better recollection of the last time they were really cleaned. Scary.
The sink is piled up with dishes. The counter… err… catch all… is overflowing. The couple month old rug in the dining room is stained with food. Dirt crowds the cracks of the shower, hair clutters the corners of the bathrooms. Toothpaste dots the sinks. The lawn could be mistaken for an abandoned lot. Toys litter our driveway and yard, unfinished yard projects await our return.
Dirty laundry at the bottom of both stairways. Paint is still on the rug in the foyer from our project-gone-awry two weeks ago. The recycling bin is overflowing into the mudroom. Weeks of folded laundry (hey! at least its folded!) crowd the loveseat and sofa in the basement. The cat litter stinks. The kitchen floor is sticky. The toy room looks like an F5 blew threw.
I’m scarily behind on proofing sessions, ordering, packaging and shipping prints. Piles clutter my office as well as my scrapbook area. I have multiple to-do lists scattered about the house. I’m behind on blogging. And grocery shopping. And obviously cleaning.