It is finished.

We've done it. After weeks of just about zero calls on the house, we've bitten the big one and signed up with a realtor. We did not want to, as we have put a lot of money, work, and time into this little place, therefore wanting *all* of the equity to line our pockets, and not someone else's. But it's taking too long. We will be unable to handle many double payments, and so we've cast ourselves into the murky waters of realtors...I will now have to be sure that my house is never so dirty as to take more than 30 minutes to clean up. This means that the laundry is not allowed to sit out in the basket for days on end, the crumbs under Alexis' ever-messy high chair must be swept constantly, the dishes may not stay unwashed for more than one meal, and I must be ready to drop everything I'm doing and leave for an hour whenever I get a call. *groan*
I'm already having a bad attitude.

So. Now that my kitchen is *near* spotless , and the living and dining room are straightened to perfection, I must go fold laundry. This may sound like a simple task to the average person, but the average person has not been informed that I did four mountain-sized loads of laundry yesterday. I do not know why I detest folding laundry. Actually, it's more the thought of having to fold laundry that makes me want to fling myself to the floor and kick my feet...once I actually start doing it (folding, that is, not throwing a temper tantrum), I enjoy the neatness of each fold, and the wonderful clean smell that lasts for--oh--two minutes.


I think the main reason God gave me a child is so that I have to stop acting like one myself. I will only allow myself a small pout as I pull myself away from the ever-compelling computer, and go to my laundry.