I'd come up with a title for this post, but I have to go powerwash the driveway

Every day is a battle. Aside from general entropy, I have a toddler and two dogs speeding the process.


This morning I vacuumed for about 6 hours, yet the moment I put it away a fur bunny appeared in the middle of the hall. For brief breaks from housework, I poured probably 14 gallons of watered-down juice into a sippy cup, like the widow's oil only in reverse. (You know I'm reaching the end of my rope when I start drawing biblical parallels. Especial direness when it's the Old Testament.)

Adding fuel to the fur, a friend from work is bringing her two boys over this afternoon; one is a couple months younger than Ethan, and the other is a newborn. I'm looking forward to this—I actually really like hosting—except inviting guests over aggravates a vision condition I have. I see everything that's wrong with my house. Normal people would vacuum and run a duster over the living room. I feel the urge to get that pergola built and re-stain the back deck, install a flagstone patio, paint the kitchen, and reorganize my filing cabinets. So there's some anxiety involved.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go feverishly prepare for an afternoon of relaxing.