Another day.

And I woke up this morning feeling… bleh.

Then I beat the stupid level on Candy Crush Saga that I had been stuck on and cheered up to the point I am here to write this, and eat.  Afterwards, I am cleaning the house that Niall’s house elves will be cleaning this week.

Which will make it easier, since no dusting except for the things that normally they wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pool (like my Painted Ponies.  Those things cost too much and then there is my tea containers, too many).

I have OCD.  I have calmed it somewhat.  I now only go through the closet when I pull the summer stuff out and put in the winter.  Or when I am annoyed enough to not find what I am looking for.

I am also organized, except for certain things.  Things that if I had not relaxed on, I would go mental on.

My drawers.


They are what broke me.  I HATE to roll the top over on my socks, since I love socks.  As much as shoes.  They go together, hand in hand.  So I may not wear every pair in the week or even in the month.  Since I actually match my socks often to what I am wearing.  To pull out a pair of perfectly good socks to have the top saggy from being stretched too long?  YIKES!!!

And since I do a lot of footsies, I can’t just fold them.  Well I can, but one search through the drawer seems to undo them all.  I have too many and too small a drawer to put in an organizer beyond the one I have now.

And you want to know how bad everything is organized?

One drawer for under things.  One for scarves (and beanies), one for socks, and one for cami’s.  Cause until I lose weight, cami’s are the best friend of a lady with huge freaking breasts.

Then there is the drawer for Pj’s  (Which really needs to be two, one for the bottom halves and the other for the tops!) then one for jeans, shirts, and the last changes per season.  It is either for shorts and capri’s (That did NOT get used this year thanks to a kitten) or sweatshirts.


I love sweatshirts.

Closet is for everything that can be hung.  But it is getting filled with pants that go with many of the tops.  I spent a lot of money building them up, and to just throw them away?  Hell NO!

Then there is the rest of the house.  Everyone that comes into the house can tell my side of the office from my mom’s.  If you ask me for something, I can put my hands on it in less than five minutes, unless you tried to put it away. (clears throat looking at everyone else in the house.)  I have baggies that hold different things in boxes.  They are nicely labeled.  Take the second to see if the charger you are holding has a bag.  If not?  Leave on my desk.  I will take care of it.  Do NOT just throw it in the box.

I also have dogs.  That Chew.  Well one is mine, and the other has decided he is mine.  He’s not, but he thinks he is.  Whatever, I take care of him like I do the other one.  I have a kitten that likes to knock things on the floor to watch the dogs tear it apart.

I also have a cat that is my mom’s who has decided to use my kitten’s cat litter box instead of his own.  Normally no trouble.  But now?  Her box is small.  Perfect for her.  Not for his huge ass.  So I spent everyday not only cleaning out the litter boxes  (yes two since she has one in the bedroom and one in the office) but also cleaning up where he tries to cover his mistakes with half the kitty litter in the box.  ::Sighs::

I also get tired of junk being loaded on things.  You know the stuff no one knows what to do with, and instead of asking, just lets it pile up on the table I like to eat at.  No one else does, but I do and I get irritated and go into the office to eat.  Then I am irritated to the point, I pull out the wipes and clean my desk….again.

I am far from a saint.  But if I clean something, it stays nice for awhile.  Until the rest of the house goes to hell then, I get pissed and won’t do anything.  Then I break and go nuts for a day.

See, my hubby and I live with my parents.  It started out temporary, then things kept happening, and instead of moving out, we stayed to help them keep the house.  We took out a large loan to keep the house, since no one told us until it was almost too late what was going on.

The house is large, four bedroom, one a master suite another a father-in-law suite.  Those are in the ‘new’ part of the house.  My hubby and I stay in the front of the house, which consists of the living room, front door, a bedroom and the main bathroom.  And the office.

The middle is the kitchen and on the same side of the house is the father in law suite, which is being used as a guest bedroom/library, and now the dogs room for their crates.   The back half is theirs.  Media room, Master Bedroom.  Back door.

I share the office with my mom.  I stare out on her half of the room, and actually am learning to block it off since I stare at my screens more often.  But there are times it pisses me off, like today and I will be organizing her half.

I will be going through my area, putting away a lot of little things that people stack up where I don’t see them normally until I need something, then I find a million things that don’t belong on shelves that they don’t belong to.

Granted, some of them are, ‘Dammit Stormy!’ move it’s.  Stuff that she decided that was in the way, cause she is going to use wherever they were originally as part of her the-floor-is-lava avoidance plan.  She has complete highways through the house, now that she can jump further, that ignore the floor.  I know she can get from the dining room to the back of the house not touching the floor.  So far, she has not figured out another way to do the other parts of the house.

Thank God.

This is the time that I scare everyone, since I get pissed no one has hung up that picture I bought a month or two ago.  I put the dang thing exactly where I wanted it, (below it) and no one did it no matter how many times I asked.

Then they beg me not to use hammers.  C’mon people, I was 13 when I put the hole in the wall!!!

Ah well.  Now to get to the cleaning, so I can annoy the hell out of everyone else when they come home. Since I work here, I have to put up with their messes, while they get to go to their other places.  If you make a mess in my work space, don’t expect me to be nice when I have to clean it since you can’t be bothered to put your dishes in the empty dishwasher that is marked dirty.