Lions, Tigers, and Socks, oh my!

This is me, entering my daughter's room.

They are not home.

Thus, I clean.

I purge.

It's a good feeling when I'm not screaming like a little girl at the things I find.

Socks.

I quit counting at four trillion.

They are everywhere.

E

V

E

R

Y

W

H

E

R

E

It is not normal.

Are they sneaking out at night, accosting socked people?

I have never seen half of these socks.

The dishes I was missing.

They have come home to roost in mommy's kitchen where they belong.

After I scraped out the molded broccoli. 

And I thought I had nothing to take to the Homeschool Science Fair.

Ha!

My daughters are nasty, dirty, hoarders.

I don't think it's fair.

I'm tidy and organized.

Heck, check out my Pinterest wall if you don't believe me.

I may not hang my blouses according to color, but they are hung, by gum! And all facing the same way on the hangers, too.

Why was I cursed with two stinky, smelly, teenage boys, hiding in the bodies of innocent looking girls?

I stepped on a doll house chair and nearly died.

Anna's American Girl knock-off doll was at my eye level when I straightened up from a particularly back breaking job of under the bed sweeping, and I lost three years of my life.

I started out kind, not throwing too much away, but two hours later I became a sniveling wretch, mind bent on revenge, and I even threw away the only money I found: one quarter.

I now feel as though I have been camping in the wilderness for a week, covered in grime and stickiness, hungry, deranged, mildly hallucinatory. 

Thus the Doctor Who humor.

Here's another to leave you with as I go scrape the dirt, residue, stickers, and four pounds of sock fuzz off of my offending body.

Crap. I'm out of soap.

HAHAHAHAHA!!!
Seriously.
Slays me.

Love, your favorite nerd.