“They” say a person’s bedroom is like a hidden window into who they are, individually and as a couple. I sure hope that’s not true. Because these bags of trash have been sitting in our room since Christmas, and they are multiplying at an alarming rate. We’re not really trashy people. Honest. It’s just that after all the effort wasted picking up after boys all day sometimes we have a little trouble picking up after ourselves. And after the maddening task of wrestling boys into bed at night, sometimes we order in, just to make ourselves feel better about our lives. And after all that Christmas, well, I don’t even want to talk about it. Sure, it makes sleeping hard, knowing those bags of trash are staring at your back while you try to summon sleep. Sure, they sit beside you when you’re working and puff their smells right up your nose when you turn a certain way. Sure, they tell a story of who you don’t really want to be. But to tell you the truth, I’m just glad that trash is in bags now, because do you know where it used to be? All.over.this.room. So cut us some slack. At least we picked it up this time.
(P.S.: See that purple purse? And the white piece of paper hanging out from under it? That would be a paper airplane. I CANNOT GET AWAY FROM PAPER AIRPLANES. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! I THROW ONE AWAY AND THERE ARE THREE MORE IN ITS PLACE. SOMEONE SAVE ME BEFORE I’M BURIED ALIVE BY PAPER AIRPLANES!!!)
