My house hates me.

The usual creaks and groans of this over 100 year old house are dripping with animosity and bitterness. I think it could be the GIANT piles of dust in the corners of every room, or possibly the house is just groaning under the pressure of all the dirty laundry piled everywhere, or the toys strewn from front door to back. Brett is a hero when it comes to the kitchen. He is determined to at least keep the dishes at bay, he is that guy with the bucket on the sinking ship. What is it going to be like when we have a new baby around here?

At least the dust piles look soft, if I wait to clean them up, perhaps in five months I can just rest the baby in them. Who needs a co-sleeper or a bassinet when you can sleep in a nice fluffy bed of dust bunnies? Sadie is growing so quickly, I don’t really need to wash her clothes. I’ll just keep buying her bigger and better ones. As for me, since I’m over 30, chubby, pregnant, married, and already a mother, I’m invisible to like over half the population anyway – so I don’t really need to wear clean clothes. So really, it’s no wonder I avoided the house and went to Target today. I just wish the damn house would understand! When you have great moldings and details, you don’t need to be clean. Listen, house, you’ve got character. That is so much more important than hygiene. This is a basic tenet of my life, so seriously, trust me on this one. Stop your complaining and buck up already, or I won’t get you that new furniture I’ve been promising you.