I have a confession: I did not run today. I know. It was a beautiful week of training and I stop one run shy of my goal. On a beautiful morning at that. It’s shameful, it really is. My excuse? Oh, I don’t have one. Not really. I just decided to clean the house today instead. The cat hair tumbleweeds were taking over, and I was getting gired of picking them off of junior’s wet, drooled-on hand in a vain attempt to keep him from ingesting them. Gross, huh?

I tend to get the opportunity to clean in spurts. Like, I’ll dust the living room and then LilRunr will need a diper change. Or I’ll vacuum the hall but not the kitchen because Lil wakes up from his nap. Doing everythimg halfway has been slowly driving me crazy, so in the interest of mental health I decide to take an extra “rest” day. “Rest.” Chuckle. Seven loads of laundry and nine straight hours of cleaning later and my inner neat freak is finally satisfied.

That “ah, so clean” feeling ought to last…oh…two days? Or until Lil spits up on the couch, the cat pukes under the bed, or Husband spills strawberry jam on the floor. All things I cleaned up today.


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