Sunday, 12 February 2012


I don't like devoting a whole post to it. I'd quite like it if it did itself and I didn't even have to think about it.

I'm a list-writer by nature. I like lists, I like notebooks and I like pens. I don't even particularly mind housework when I get to write lists. But housework in the company of a 2 and a 3 year old just doesn't work. As I tidy things away they get them out, as I wash sinks they wash themselves and the floor and whatever else they can. As I sort cupboards things get mysteriously taken and turn up later, usually under the sofa.

Now where am I going with this? Well my house is a MESS. Not a chronic mess but cluttered and grubby, and full of washing. Full to bursting point with washing. The washing machine fixer person is due tomorrow between 8am and 6pm and once it's fixed (if it isn't I'll sob) then I'm going to beat the guiness world record for the most laundry done in one day.

So tomorrow will be devoted to scrubbing and cleaning and sorting and neatening. In the company of 2 kiddies who will be armed with a pack of wetwipes, probably dressed in strange clothes (due to the washing problem).

Wish me luck.

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