Holy crap on toast, I am so pooped right now! My legs are throbbing in pain from walking. (Oh God am I ever lame. Pretend that they're sore from snorkeling through the Caribbean instead.)
I'm lying in bed but my brain is going a hundred miles a minute, and if Aimee called me right now to babysit I would jump up and jog over. My brain and legs are so contrary because I just cleaned for eleven hours in one go. (You know what would sound impressive? If I said 'eleven hours and I cleaned the house top to bottom'. But that would be someone else's blog, because you know what?) It took me eleven hours to clean my room.
I'll just let you absorb that little tidbit of horrifying information.
Seriously. Whose room is so gross it takes eleven hours to make it clean? WHOSE? (Sidenote; since I am so tired normal things are looking weird, and I just noticed that "whose" is "w"-"hose" and it's weird that the word "hose" is in a possessive form of "who". Now, onward!) Really, who has such a dirty room? There's only so much dusting and vacuuming a person can do before they keel over.
Those of you who know me and/or have seen my dirty room are probably shaking your heads right now in disbelief that I am pretending shocked disbelief. Well, YOU ARE RIGHT. I AM DIRTY. My room is dirty and full of dust and cat litter and EW, if I think about it then yes, I get grossed out too. So I don't.
I wish I had taken a "before" picture but you will have to use your memories for that and settle for "after" pictures. I dusted and vacuumed and mopped repeatedly, threw away and donated and organized and neatened (as strange as it is I am slightly OCD about things being in order. My room can be a hurricane but MY BOOKSHELF WILL BE IN THE RIGHT ORDER. Everything in it's proper place! Or ELSE.) and now my room is so beautiful that I simply must share it with you . . .
. . . tomorrow. (Hey, I'm exhausted and sore here. Ninight!)