“We Don’t Live in a Museum.”

The title is a direct quotation from the Boffin.  And he is right, we don’t.  But I have a tendency to beat myself up too much when the household gets backed up.  Of course, the Boffin reminds me that the house is the family’s responsibility.  Mother ≠ maid, that old adage.

But the Boffin has the uncanny ability to tune out filth.  I am amazed by this talent.  A roving 10ft. dirt pile will only bother him if directly affects him, say if it jerks the steering wheel while he is in the groove of a really good Gran Turismo lap or if it starts eating the Sprog or me.

I can’t though.  Let’s be honest.  It’s the women who still get judged about these things, especially if people know you are at home.  I still get people asking questions about “What do I do all day?”.  Well, not that I need to explain, but I am trying to get a writing career off the ground, which is basically starting a business.  Part of it means getting my name out there, and this blog is part of the plan.  Tidying may not be my first point of order, but the important areas will be cleaned and disinfected.  It’s not like we are in hoarding or health hazard conditions.

We are also renovating the guest room.  That means stuff that was in there is piled in my family room and looks quite attractive next to my elliptical.  It just makes me want to throw on sepia camera effects and post pictures onto Pinterest.  But I am not going to do that.

I will do is show you what my house looks like now with undoctored pictures.  So judge away; just don’t judge only me.  Oh, to potential burglars, most of our stuff is from IKEA.  You better have a good Allen wrench set to fix the stuff you try to nick.



And as for me, I am going to try to live my life more like I the plaque I have up.


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