Give The People What They Want

(And I'd just like to take this moment to say that I'd like to go to bed now, please.)

So, one of my readers (who I swear is not me with another account) politely asked for pics of the playroom. They'll be up at the end of this post. I'm good at some things...photographing rooms is not one of them. The window is crooked, the perspective is all weird...eh. Hopefully you'll get the gist. But you might be like "Why is she wasting our time?" What I would like to bring your attention to at this point is this:

This is the laundry situation right now-no, wait-the clean laundry situation right now. (It might look OK to you because (and I don't think I'm supposed to admit this) I certainly didn't feel like getting up from the couch to go photograph my laundry problem. That's a regulation size foam board of family rules behind that there pile of laundry.) There's a giant load in the washer, one in the dryer and 3 to 4 loads waiting to be laundered on the laundry room floor. I want to cry. I want to make a rule that no one wears clothes ever. Every time I open the laundry room door to add to the pile, I swear I can hear the laundry laughing at me. Like, a "relishing one's evilness" laugh. It may have been gleefully rubbing its laundry hands together. I had to avert my eyes so I could try to go to bed before midnight tonight.

See, I came home and was like "I'm going to do work." But the work that doesn't count is the work that I did all night...the cooking, the feeding, the bathing, the changing, the clothing, the reading of the bedtime stories, the mild threats to make Abbey stay in bed...once I got all THAT done, I was free to start on the dishes or the vacuuming of the entire house. But I'm fricking tired and I don't feel like it. So, I'm going to type this and go to bed. And you can't stop me. But, as you can see, the laundry situation is getting out of hand and I'm setting myself up for dismal failure since I work the next 3 days straight.

Also, I work the later shift which is interesting because I go to work later, but not late enough to do anything significant around the house. But I get off at nine and it's all I can do to drive home and fall into bed because 9 has somehow become my bedtime. It's one short step from here to eating dinner at Denny's at 4:30 p.m. and watching Matlock.

So, if I'm giving my lovely blog reader (who I swear is not my mom) the (poorly taken) pictures of the girls' room and playroom, I'm sorry everybody but I'm going to bed after this. Please don't contact Hoarders yet. I can change!

I'm really happy about the "No Toys In The Bedrooms" rule because it seems so much more peaceful (and sleep-conducive!) in there. I did not wake up this morning at 5 a.m. with Abbey laying on my face. Score!

Playroom:

Girls' Room: (And no, I did not make Abbey's bed for you. It just got real in here.)