Turns out my biggest enemy isn’t stress or exhaustion… it’s an empty storage bin staring me down like it knows my deepest secrets.
So, today kicked off with a little house TLC session. Hubby and I went full-on cleaning mode and focused on the den first. It is now officially looking magazine-ready (or at least TLC-ready… and by TLC I mean “tender loving cleaning,” not the TV network). I’ve still got a jewelry box and storage bins on the way, because apparently, I can’t survive without adding at least one more container to my life. I also started transforming the hall closet into a backup storage command center because, let’s face it, we’ve been stockpiling like we’re prepping for a zombie apocalypse. Once those bins arrive, they’ll be the new home for cleaning supplies and who knows what else.
After that productive high? Crash and burn. Couldn’t peel my eyes open at 4 pm., so we settled for 5. But once we sat down in the den for our little pre-work hangout, my body said “nope.” I tried waking up several times, but I basically slept my way straight into work prep time. The den couch won the battle today, and honestly? Zero regrets.
Dinner was Taco Bell (because nothing screams “productive adult” like crunchy tacos before your night shift). Then we swung by the liquor store for a vape, where I had my most embarrassing moment of the day. I typed in the wrong PIN, card declined, cue the panic. But then—plot twist—the man behind us just paid for everything. Like, sir?? What in the random-acts-of-kindness is happening right now? Of course, I felt awful, because we weren’t broke; I just fat-fingered the keypad. But I promised him I’d pay it forward, so now I guess I’m on the hook for my own good-deed sequel
Outside of that, the day was a snooze-fest (literally). My one real accomplishment? Staying on top of my planner. I’ve been logging all the things—steps, sleep, mood—and according to the mood tracker, I’m just as stable as I thought. Which is great… except, hello void, my old friend.
Oh, and speaking of realizations—apparently, I have a full-blown storage container obsession. I hoard bins like they’re Pokémon, but actually putting things inside them? Forget it. Every bin and drawer in the entertainment center? Empty. Just sitting there mocking me. And don’t even get me started on hubby trying to help. If he makes an “executive decision” about what goes where, I feel like I’m being smothered by plastic lids. OCD really said, “Surprise! Here’s another quirk for you to deal with.”
So yeah. Today was part domestic goddess, part nap queen, part storage-bin philosopher. Not the most productive day ever, but at least the den looks good.
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