As I said to Stewey before throwing my Mr Clean Magic Eraser across the room...
WHAT THE BLEEPITY BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP AM I DOING?!?!
Oh, Dearies, gone are the days when I was able to clean the house like an Amish woman, do the laundry, change the bed, do the groceries, and cook for the week and not only live to tell the tale...but put on the denim mini and go dance the night away. (*)
I was bemoaning this fact out loud to my Jersey Boy, when he politely reminded me that he reads this here blog, and as far as he can tell I haven't been able to clean the house like and Amish woman, etc since I was in my twenties. That would mean it's been FORTY YEARS ago.
FORTY. YEARS.
Damnit. Just when I was thinking that with enough practice and willpower I might return to my Saturday routines of yore, he has to go and remind me that I am now old and just simply unable to do so.
(Plus, there's that whole kidney, thyroid, and colon thing.)
But it's done, and as soon as I figure out how to get up off the floor, I'm going to re-make the bed, fold the four loads of laundry, take a nice shower, and enjoy the sparkle for the fifteen minutes it's going to last.
Bathroom tomorrow. ðŸ¤ðŸ˜¬ðŸ¤ðŸ˜¬ðŸ¤
(*) Of course I didn't have a denim mini! Don't you know me by now? I have always been a beefy gal, and my biggest nightmare would be overhearing somebody say "Oh my Gawd! Did you see that big beefy gal in that denim mini?!"....so I stuck with the pleated front Mom jeans like all of the other beefy gals, thankyouverymuch.
No comments:
Post a Comment