I hope some translation work gets here soon. This housework is going to kill me.
Today was one of those days of Brownian cleaning and tidying. Every time I thought, Ah, now I'll sit down and read for a while, I would immediately get up and either throw something out or clean it. And yet, after all that work, the house does not look appreciably better or cleaner.
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again, plus laundry.
I'll be glad when the cold snap is over and Oz can put all his potted plants outside and give me the illusion of decluttering. When he moved his plants over last spring, they all went out in the yard for the summer. I had no idea the sheer volume of vegetation until he brought them inside in the fall. Pot after pot, plant after plant, this never-ending alien parade took over every horizontal surface in the house. The cats were excited ("Woo! Salad Bar!" *nibble* *nibble* *barf*), but me? Not so much. A few houseplants under someone else's care are lovely, as well as more likely to live than if I'm expected to water them. Jungles, however, belong outside.
I think I can speed up the cleaning and tidying process if, instead of cleaning things and putting them away, I simply throw them out. Does that sound threatening? I doubt my keepsakes are quaking in their boots. They know me too well.