another day, another update.

took some time off, or rather, was forced to take time off due to illness.  first jack (the host), then dylan (victim #1), then ben (victim #2) and lastly, moi (victim #3).  we are all better now, not a trace of nose dribble and all antibiotics have been consumed.  i spent the day cloroxing-windexing-pledging, basically, if it was in my cupboard and had a lemon scent, it was used.  even opened some windows, was in the middle of vacuuming the floors, and then it all came to a stop.

you know those time when you are just cursing your significant other for something they continually do (like, why am i even surprised i'm mad... they just DO this...)  well, for me, it's ben's clothes on the floor on his side of the bed.  i watch this pile grow by the day, he adds to it every night for a week, just a pile of dirty work shirts, balled up socks, jammies that have been worn for an hour (oh, he'd be thrilled with me calling his sweatpants and t-shirts "jammies"), maybe 2-3 hoodies.  and every time i tell myself i'm on mound-o-clothes strike, i swoop in and do it.  it's ridiculous.  it'd be one thing if i didn't have to go on his side of the bed, which i don't, but when i walk out of our bathroom, it's the first thing i notice.  gah!  or ladies, how 'bout this, my personal unfavorite: the toilet paper roll.  is it really that hard?  c'mon.  

ok, so i came across a huge thorn today only, it wasn't ben.  it wasn't the kids.  it was ALL me.  long brown hairs.  snippets of colorful thread.  long and twisted, wrapped around in the vacuum thingy, like, a bajillion times.  and, who's to blame?  ME.  same person that clogs the shower drain with balls of gooey shampoo-conditioned hair.  so, as i'm crouched down on all fours, in the middle of the hallway, tiny scissors in hand, dylan eating who-knows-how-many goldfish just to keep her quiet for a sec and jackie a millimeter away from my face asking whassat-what doin-whassat-what doin until i felt like i was gonna lose it.  damn me.  so being this up close and personal with my dear dyson, i realize that i have yet to clean her filters.  ever.  (yes, she's a she.  we work together several times a week and only a female would put up with that much use and abuse.)  an hour later, her filters were pulled, rinsed thoroughly, and the instructions inform me to perform this every 3 months.  i really don't like that sort of pressure.  i'll get to it when i get to it.  (or the next time i'm clipping hairs and thread from the roller-thingy, more likely.) 

40/40 update?  we're donating a desk that is not practical, takes up way to much room, you can't put a computer on it, filing is very limited, and there are no spaces to neatly pass cords through.  so with anticipation of its removal, i went through all our files and tossed old papers.  yowza.  threw away old non-working markers and highliters, tossed some stretched out rubber bands and bent tacks.  i did find a new desk, but i've been urged to hold off until the other one is out of our hands.  i can hardly contain myself.  (isn't it silly what we get excited about these days?  furniture?  really?  YES.)  

the only other check off i've completed is going through my books.  i'm usually pretty good about turning books back in to titlewave for credit, but i likely have not done that since pre-dylan.  bringing kids into bookstores, well, any store really without shopping carts, just doesn't happen too often these days.  so, i was able to pilfer through my collection and end up with two target bags full of hardcovers and paperbacks.  titlewave, i'll be seeing you soon...

we are down to just 24 days, people.  time to kickstart this party - who's bringing me a daily jolt of java?