I don’t want to say I haven’t been up to much. Since Jan., I was really preoccupied with my read 50 books goal. For some reason, I thought it would take me longer to achieve.
I don’t leave the house a lot. I’m practically one of those crazy cat lady hoarders you see on TV. No, I’m not hoarding cats, I’m just really, really messy & disorganized.
I do own 7 cats, btw. It’s almost not intentional. That’s a different story, I’ll get to it later.
Plus, I have a tendency to buy multiple items of the same thing. I like to buy things in 3’s or multiples of 3’s. I end up with a ridiculous amount of stuff.
When I go through my belongings I’m constantly saying “Why the hell do I have_?! Why did I buy so many?” and shaking my head.
Ohh, and I’m a terrible housewife. I work better if I have someone telling me what to do or leaving me a list. My non-legal husband, Mr. Bunny refuses to help me by writing me a chore list. I asked him, and he said “Oh well, you’re an adult.”
Yes, I did explain to him why I want the list. Hmph.
I’ve offered friends money to come over & help me clean. They’ve kind of blown me off. One said okay, then offered to get me some submissive transvestite to come over and be my sissy maid. That has yet to happen.
All this clutter & mess contributes to my nasty depression. It’s kind of stifleing in my house. It’s mostly my fault, and I know this. I’ve always been messy. I inherited that from my mom.
Mr. Bunny does have some blame. He leaves trash everywhere, doesn’t clean up after himself, and doesn’t really help with the cleaning. He’s works a lot, so I’m not complaining about the not cleaning. The rest, he can do something about. I mean, he’s almost 40. I shouldn’t have to tell him to mop up the gigantic lake of coffee that he just made on the floor.