I’ve got to get more storage.
My current arrangements make me want to cry, even though I’m a big tough man. And I am.
Everything I own is in easy reach of my children.
I swear that they do it on purpose. Every day they pull out every damn book, every damn toy and every damn floor puzzle jigsaw then chuck them in the middle of the living room floor, and for what?
Just for the sake of doing it.
That’s all.
Nothing else.
They don’t play a game. They don’t read the books. They don’t solve a puzzle.
They just make a big pile of crap.
And by way of celebration they take all the cushions off the sofas, unfold all the throws before moving on to trash the next room.
It’s 2pm now and if the house isn’t tidy by the time my wife gets home, I’ll never have to worry about shaving ever again.
I still need to walk the dog, collect the boys from school, make dinner and get this place spotless before 4.30pm.
So what the hell am I doing writing this??
I’m off.
Bye!!
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