Cleaning Machine

Woke up morose, as you can tell by my previous post.  Down and out because I had an awful day yesterday and rolled out of bed with the bummed feeling strapped to my shoulders.  

Didn't take me long, however, to realize I don't like hanging on to bad feelings and I can't stand being down.  So I did the next best thing to moping, which is cleaning.  Like a mad woman.  I'm a cleaning machine!

Not that you could tell if you walked into my house.  You'd inhale the wonderful aroma of a vanilla candle and nearly trip over the shoes and stray basket in the doorway.  On your way down, say thanks to the two tornadoes that seem to destroy the areas I've just cleaned and leave chaos in their wake.  And don't be fooled ... the smallest tornado packs the biggest punch.

After you push up and dust yourself off, try to avoid the four laundry baskets crowding the living room doorway.  They're just there to prove that I've actually washed, dried and folded some laundry.  I like to leave it there as motivation.  Don't worry -- it's next on the list to be put away.

I've rearranged a closet previously home to lots and lots of junk, homeless odds and ends.  Now it's a coat closet, with all our winter coats hanging and hats, mittens and gloves peacefully resting in baskets on shelves.  I also managed to organize a hallway closet and sweep the floors.

And here's a picture to prove that my kitchen countertop can be clean:

Unfortunately, five minutes later it's covered up again.  Good thing is that I will always have something to clean.  Now if that isn't depressing, I don't know what is.  ;)


Postscript:

I finish posting the above entry, and look over to find this: