Oy. I'm a messy freak of a person. I clean my house for someone to come over and then let it work up to a total disaster.
This is a life-long battle that I'm not sure I care about anymore. This house is easy to take care of and I no longer feel helpless amongst the piles like I used to.
That being said- I should like, fold the clothes and pick up a bit. It just doesn't come naturally to me. I did the things I HAD to do- like get clean water for the chickens and feeding them. Doing the same for the rabbit. Change the sheets, do the dishes. Eh. Am I done yet?
There are so many other things I could be doing like...reading! I'm reading Stardust by Neil Gaiman at the moment. I could be doing the enormous pencil drawing I've been dreaming up...something I REALLY should do. I could take a chapter of Blood Freckles and edit it.
Or I could just bake something and go on Facebook for a while. This is highly likely.
I kind of dig the piles. What a mess.
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