It’s Sunday night.
Every Sunday night I take a laundry basket and walk through each room of my house and pick up all the things that don’t belong in that room and put them in the basket to take them to the room they belong in.
I use an average sized laundry basket. It’s made of white plastic and is curved on one side. I have about four of these. I like them because they hold a lot of stuff and can be held comfortably under one arm.
So explain to me, why are so many freakin’ things in my house in the wrong rooms? I can fill this laundry basket full to over flowing in about ten minutes.
I yell, I whisper. I plead, I threaten. No one in my house puts anything away. It is starting to drive me crazy.
My darling son called me a bully tonight. Yep kid, your Mom’s a bully. Shame on her for trying to get you to clean up your stuff.
As I filled my basket tonight I starting day dreaming about moving out into my own small apartment. Just me. Think of it. I could decorate it the way I like, things would be where I want them to be and just imagine! – No one would leave their dirty undies in the middle of the entrance way.
Who is raising these slobs anyway? Oh. That would be me.
Okay then, I’m back to filling the laundry basket.