Welcome To Our Home Of Toxic Waste
I've got spring fever, and I never get spring fever. It must mean I'm coming out of this deep, dark hole I seem to have been in for about 1,033 years. Or maybe it's just that I have finally reached the point of not being able to stand this hell hole we call our home. Our Hallowed Home of Toxic Waste. Mr. Handsome has been extremely busy the past two months and some with some heavy-duty project at work that keeps his little brain smoking and his little fingers typing for hours and hours on end, so he is never available to clean the house for us. When he has weekends off, he normally becomes the Fuhrer and makes the children vacuum, wash floors, tidy cupboards, and make dinners, while he lolls on the couch. Kidding. So, instead of tidying and cleaning, like any sane person would normally do when her head resembles Linda Blair's at her worst moment ... after seeing what her own bedroom looks like... ... and then realizing that, oh my god in heaven, the rest of the house ...