In the past eighteen days, we've been at home a total of four of those. Four. Not only does that barely give one enough time to wash their underwear, it pretty much ensures your home will be a wreck. I managed to do 15 loads of laundry in those four days, but most of it is sitting on the couch.
I am not.
I am hiding in my chair, sitting atop tiny little boy pajamas. (But they are folded! Five points!)
To be quite honest, I am completely overwhelmed by the entire process of getting all the dog hair off every horizontal surface, wiping yet another sticky mystery mess off the floor, putting away 15 loads of folded clothes and making a bed that is completely trashed by two little boys who think I don't know they are eating STICKY WAFFLES on it. (Ignorance is bliss, yo.)
No one told me that THIS is what retirement was all about.
I think I got cheated.