Proof that there is hope yet…

Disclaimer:  I have been reluctantly avoiding the blog.  Writer's block and just feeling that ordinary, everyday life is not so exciting to all 2 of you that read this.  I'm late, I'm catching up, please forgive me.  I'm going to choose to ignore the banter in the head and push on.

Over Memorial Day weekend I had a plan.  A plan to go through closets and clean.  Three teenagers all 6 feet tall and still growing and I guarantee (did you hear my slang?) that not much in their closets fit.


Thank goodness those shorts still fit!  It took us two days, but even their Dad got in on it.  We moved into our house in December 1999/January 2000.  This is the first time he has actually cleaned the entire closet out… COMPLETELY.  Shocker. 

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And you know what?  I could not help myself.  I just kept going.  I did all the laundry, cleaned like a bancheee, cleaned out the linen closet and then I cleaned out my closet.  It didn't even need cleaning out.  I usually keep my closet clean.  Then I cleaned out the bathroom cabinets.  I couldn't help myself.  Then I stopped. 

I think I might need therapy.


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