I believe Ritsumei is coming to visit tomorrow. I think it's tomorrow. I'm not sure, maybe it's next week. Or maybe it's tomorrow. But I don't know what time.
So anyway, I'm having a panic attack because the house is not fit for human habitation, nevermind visitors. Ok, maybe that's a teeeeny bit of an exaggeration - but it's not tidy. Furthermore, I need carpet cleaners in because a winter's worth of teenagers and toddlers is showing its face plainly upon my beige carpeting.
Whoever thought of putting BEIGE carpeting in a house? That's nuts. Dark blue is the perfect colour. Or that horrid berber stuff. Hides really terrible stains. Some say hardwood throughout does the trick, but you've got to CONSTANTLY clean that stuff otherwise you get furballs from the dog. Gag me gross.
So I vacuumed the carpets in the music room (or living room or parlour or whateveryouwanttocallit) after picking up all the myriad of cars in there, and suggested to Andrew that he bring down his legos. This is because I knew he was going to ask to watch TV and I didn't want him to.
So there we were, playing legos. I made an ambulance. Andrew made an orange car.
I made a dog.
It was great fun. I took some pictures.
And then I had to quit playing.
WHy? Why? you ask.
Take a look at this very fuzzy (sorry about that) picture here.
Do you not SEE the legos? What MORON at Mattel decided to put a dip in the lego bucket? A dip perfectly sized for trapping little lego pieces. Are they INSANE?
Those legos. They call to me. They cry for me and beg me. Can you hear them?
"Keeley! Keeley! Sort us into colours and sizes and put us in little plastic bags because then we'll be all neat and tidy. Oh please Keeley! Little plastic bags! Please!"
I had to run away before I ruined my son's life by categorizing and obsessively organizing his legos. It was the only sane thing to do.