Today, I find that I am most annoyed and haunted by my arch-cleaning nemesis, the epic “floordrobe”.
Yes, you know what a floordrobe is. Clothes that are thrown on the floor but aren’t necessarily dirty enough to go in the laundry.
I won’t say whose clothes occupy most of our floordrobe. But they belong to an otherwise nearly perfect husband, who has this as his messy tragic flaw.
Me? I’m so much better. I let my “not dirty clothes” accumulate on our bathroom counter. It’s the perfect solution– until you want to brush your teeth or hair. Then you have to dig to the bottom of the pile.
Sigh. Housecleaning was so much easier before Gregory needed to eat every 2 hours…