For me, seeing the kitchen clean would instantly make me feel better.
Yesterday we stowed the last of the moldy photo albums and papers in the basement, inside tubs. Not only does the living room smell okay again, but the small, nagging headache I've had for days has dialed itself down several notches. This is good.
Kid Two and The Girlfriend--plus bunny--will arrive tomorrow night. The upstairs is ready after last weekend's guest, but the downstairs is in chaos. I'm kind of weird about how I don't want The Girlfriend to see how we really live. She grew up the low end of wealthy, apparently, and always had a housekeeper or cleaning staff. But the apartment she shares with Kid Two is a pigsty, so what do I care?
I guess I'm not competing with her but with her parents, eh?
Maryn, going all Jungian on herself