So yesterday sucked. I was waiting for a phonecall about the outcome of an interview. No phonecall. No email. This morning, instead of the promised call/email, I get a letter telling me I’m unsuccessful. Fuckers.
Now, I’m one of those mad people who views housework as therapy. It’s my way of setting my world to rights. I’m also a *tiny* bit of a masochist, so I picked the worst room in our house. Noone but us sees it and so it gets into a deplorable state…
Oh DEAR oh dear…
I think it’s about time we got cracking, yes?
So today’s list of accomplishments include:
- Sorting out books to donate to charity
- Putting away all washing and clothing
- MAKING MY BED
- Clearing out my smellies and toiletries and sorting them back into the vanity case and wicker bag where they are supposed to live
- Cleaning and restacking the bookshelves
- Doing my filing
- Sweeping the floor
- Dusting my desk and the computer stuff
- Refolding the sloppy and escaping piles of clothes
- Emptying the drying rail
Shall we have a look at how we did?
That’s more like it!
(Those two cardboard boxes are filled with books for the charity shop. The mask is going too, that’s just made of porcelain so I don’t want to break it)
Can I get a ‘Hell Yeah!’ … ?
How about a “Fuck yeah!”
I recently discovered Unfuck Your Habitat. My habitat was in serious need of some unfucking, so today, I jumped right in and began the process of Unfucking my bedroom.
When you open my bedroom door, this is what you used to see:
Although to be fair, the dog isn’t always chilling out on my bed, but I think he knew I was taking photos and decided he wanted to be in them, too.
Now, after two and a half hours and a whole bunch of 20/10s, this is what you see when you open the door to my room:
Awwwww yeah. (& the dog, at the time of this photo, gave up on trying to sleep in a room that was Being Unfucked and went to sleep on my mom’s bed instead).