I probably shouldn't be writing this. I am tired and grumpy and probably need an early night but I also know I won't sleep and I won't settle so I might as well write here and maybe, just maybe, be held a tiny bit accountable.
My house is currently a disaster zone. We have just been away for a few idyllic days down at my inlaws beach house. It seriously looks like a magazine house. Everything is sleek and glossy and clean and simple. It feels restful.
Coming home was not restful. There is "stuff" on every horizontal surface in our home. We have too much "stuff". Way too much "stuff". "Stuff" that might one day come in useful. "Stuff" that I might one day get around to fixing. "Stuff" that doesn't have a home. "Stuff" that we can't throw out because we don't know quite what it is (or belongs to - "is that the spare bolt from the dryer or the bit from the kids swing set?")
I really need to re-read Fly Lady. I really need to make next week Purge Week.
A room a day...
Wish me luck...
Oh, and if you happen to visit, don't let me pretend that the house isn't always this bad. We both know the truth!