I think I have been scarred by this whole “have to keep the house ready to show at a moments notice” routine that we have been living in for a mere 5 days. I am seeing the whole Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing come out. (Or perhaps more accurately Dr. Java and Mr. Clean.)
You see, I have become a freak of sorts. (Shuddup. A different kind of freak than the kind of freak you have come to know and love. Be nice.) Things that I could overlook before are suddenly making me completely nuts.
*Screeching*: “What is this fork doing here? Are you finished with it?? Can you not put it in the dishwasher?!”
“Sweetie, let your son finish his dinner before you grab up his fork and put it in the dishwasher. He was only taking a drink of his milk.” (Says the non-uterus bearing adult figure in the house.)
Or for instance the thing that makes me crazy…an unmade bed.
“I just made this bed! Why does it look like this?” I demand in a rather appalled manner.
“Honey, your son is still in there sleeping. Wait until morning and you can make it again.” (Says the testosterone laden non-estrogen carrying adult person in the house)
Then we have the ultimate sin of taking clothes off of a hanger and leaving the hanger on the floor or on the bed (now neatly made and wrinkle/child free). Oh you don’t want to see me go all “Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest with the no more wire hangers” mode on their collective asses. Nope. It just isn’t pretty. He even hides when that one happens.