I got out of bed this morning and tripped over an epic pile of laundry. It's seriously epic. I believe that everything I own is lying in a heap on the floor, waiting to be washed, fluffed and folded. But then I open my drawers and they are still full. Oh, Laundry Mountain. You rival even the most loathed of uphill climbs: our friend, Lady Mountain.
Then I stumbled into the kitchen. Fortunately I tackled the stack of dishes that had overtaken our kitchen last night. The downside to the pre-planning and budget-savvy strategy of making all of Gary's breakfasts and lunches (and my lunches) in advance and storing them in tupperware in the fridge for the upcoming week is the OUTRAGEOUS amount of tupperware that collects and then needs to be washed. I officially added "dishwasher" to the Condo Needs and Wants list last night (right there beside double sink, wall big enough for our projection screen and in-suite laundry). Oh, Dish Mountain. I hate you.
Then I dropped my eyeshadow compact on the floor in the bathroom. Crumbs of my favourite L'oreal Berries and Cream now shimmer on the tile under the sink. Sorry, Gary. I tried to wipe up what I could in the 30 seconds I reserve for applying cosmetics in the morning before rushing out of the apartment in mad dash to scurry off to the office. Oh, Mop Mountain. I hate you, too.
If you haven't figured it out yet, tonight I am going to be a very busy Megan. However, somewhere between my desk at work and our front door there is a bar, and I have plans to meet a friend in that bar for a cocktail. Cleaning is always much more fun after a few G&T's.
Oh, Hangover Mountain. I welcome your presence. It has been too long, my friend. Too long.