Okay. This isn’t really my house.
But I feel like it is.
You know when you go to get dressed & feel like during that time, the children will be fine watching Bug’s Life in the living room…alone? Like angels?
Only to find the living room looking like Satan hosted Gene Simmon’s orgy while everyone did Kool-aid body shots? In the span of 4 minutes? What the fuck people?
I feel like I’m only a couple of days away from having those British Nazi cleaning women at my house yelling at me that the kids would have cleaner water if they drank directly from the toilet than one of our cups. Or that there’s fecal matter on my hair brush or something. Although I think the bigger lady…is that Kim…would be a fantastic drinking partner, I’m just not into getting a visit from her!
I’m telling you – I’m like, 2 sleeps from having shit sent from my house to a lab – just to determine how gross I am. I need a scale of grossness.
I might be overreacting. I would just like an uninterrupted hour to clean. Like, really clean. Like, with Ly-fuckin-sol. Yeah, yeah, natural cleaners are great. But good night nurse, I need some lemon scented cleaner to validate me as a good mother and wife and to tell me that my house is clean!
I’m going to find my toilet brush.