For the first time in FOUR whole weeks, my kitchen floor is clean. I know gross right?
I'd like to say it's because I'm in a full leg cast or something like that, but I'm not. It's been these dang peaches, baskets and baskets full of them-and something had to be done with them.
Every time I'd try to get the floor mopped I'd have more peaches to do, and the icky-sticky mess that goes with them, so finally I just stopped cleaning the floor altogether. I've already acknowledged the grossness of it all, but what I really can't believe is that I let it go for that long without having a family of rats move in unnoticed, not even a single ant.
Really all I can say is that I'd better not tempt fate by doing that ever again- I'm happy to be a slave to routines and I'll stick to floors on Tuesdays and Fridays to keep it that way.
Only to have it all undone by the girl child, mere minutes later... what was I thinking- I'm not happy being a slave to routine, it's a necessary evil.