The best part of cleaning up is . . . help me with this people.
The hardest part of my day is . . .
That’s our Finish the Sentence Friday prompt.
Waking up, Waking up, Waking up.
But I bet lots of people put that.
So my number two answer would be . . .
The hardest part of my day is cleaning up.
Cleaning up, Cleaning up, Cleaning up.
My husband if he reads this is asking himself, “She cleans up?’
Yes, silly I do.
And I hate every minute of it.
Now I love things neat and picked up. Just darn the time drain needed to pick up and put back.
Especially when you live with a bunch of use-it-and-drop-it-where-I-used-it people.
Dental floss, scissors, paper (cut with said scissors), graham cracker boxes.
The dirty dishes to make it to the kitchen sink but only so far. Dirty drinking glasses. For some odd reason, this subset of dirty dishes does not make it to the sink. The milk, lemonade, Gatorade is drained and there the glass sits.
Just stepped into the room my children were playing games on the telly late into the night.
It’s like I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than pick up.
I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
For all they know, drinking containers magically transport themselves to the shelves again. All clean and pretty and ready to fill with a drink and leave sitting on a table.
This one is mine.
Pooh.
What is the hardest part of your day?
Come link up and commiserate.
