I really need a cleaning lady. Or, you know, a match.

I’ve been trying very hard this summer to let go of some of my “I have to do this before I sleep” cleaning rituals, and relax (a little) when things are out of order. 
(It has less to do with some awakening I’ve experienced than with the fact that, when they’re not in school, I simple can’t keep up. Full disclosure.)
So, tonight I swept under the couch for the first time in a few days.
Sigh.
“Guys, come on! It shouldn’t be that because I didn’t sweep under here every single night that there’s a used swim diaper and (grabbing the rotten fruit) an old nectarine!”
Rustyn, peering over the couch: “Hey, dat’s mine!”
You’re missing the point, son…

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