Yesterday at the end of the work day, I told myself no matter what else I did with my evening, I needed to do some dishes.
I did not, of course.
But good CHRIST, people, my place was a disaster zone. I tripped over something almost every time I got up from the couch (bed). There was a strange smell coming from the vicinity of the trash can, which for some reason was in my room instead of the kitchen. I had no clean bowls left and had taken to eating cereal out of mixing bowls and mugs.
Shameful. Hurricane Taylor struck again. Even Bentley in the depths of his sickness was judging me with his eyes, like, "Really, bitch? You're not cleaning tonight?"
So today, I went home on my lunch and went into overdrive. I did dishes, and changed my sheets, and took out the trash, and picked up all the laundry off my floor. Granted it's now in piles on my bed and couch, but this is progress. When I get home tonight it will be like the Productivity Fairy paid me a visit!
I'm hoping the fact that I can now see my floor will inspire me to clean it.
We'll see if this is me in a few hours.
But more likely, it will be this.