She had a 1/2 hour clean on her room. She decided to deep clean, then got overwhelmed, hateful and we had a bit of a room argument.
Y'all, it wasn't pretty.
My heart was broken as I saw things of true sentimental value just chucked into piles. Necklaces that got tangled into knots. Piles and piles and piles of papers jammed into desk drawers that needed to go away. I went in with a garbage bag and was rather ruthless. K was not pleased.
For a long time, I threatened to take her to the Social Security Office (AKA The Name Society to her) and change her name to Hester Pester. Pig A. Wiggle works just as fine. Just think of the wedding invitations. She'll have some explaining to do.
3 comments:
I loathe those times in rooms. LOATHE.
I swear my room never got that bad...but then, I didn't have all the crap Lil and Bean have...:sigh: My fault. I own it.
I hate the cleaning of the room. I agree. I didn't have that amount of stuff either. Our childhoods weren't childhoods of stuff. We had sand, dirt, a bike and a few Barbies. K has been gifted or handed down enough Barbies to make TRU jealous. That stuff doesn't even bother me if it is put back into its proper creature home. The stuff that bugs the crap out of me are all the tiny pieces of paper, the wrappers that have to be kept . . . I'm not asking the room to be spotless. I am, however, asking to walk in, give her a kiss and not kick a lidless box of beads across the floor in the dark.
Sounds just like J. Oh my word. I feel your pain. I truly, truly do.
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