Okay, that's a cheesy title, but I loved the Rocky reference. Blame the cheese on my lunch (pizza) and the rust in my brain. This sick momma/sick baby business is for the birds.
Today's post will not wax philosophical, metaphorical or political. Instead, I'm discussing a topic large in my mind: house keeping. You see, after all my mother's grousing and back-spearing comments, I'm turning myself around--originally as a way to say "nyah-nyah!" to her, but now for my own edification. My lovely sister (the perfect one) turned me on to Flylady, and now I'm hooked.
I don't jibe with all the Flylady's notions--nobody is going to get me to put on shoes first thing in the morning--but she is very encouraging and just plain smart. Her ideas make house keeping fun and easier. I've loved Martha Stewart for years, but she couldn't get me to organized, and no wonder: she has three houses to stash all of her crap. Flylady understands how yucky life can be when you've stashed too much in your little two-bedroom.
Anyway, besides wrestling a feverish toddler, that's what I'm been doing. Cleaning house.