I wrote a review for Water for Elephants today. If you've read the book, go share your thoughts.
Remember the other day when I said that I was going to work on cleaning out my bedroom and closet? (You've all done a dreadful job of keeping me accountable, by the way!) Well, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I didn't get finished last week (I left town for the weekend). I did get a bunch done though, so I don't feel bad that it's not completely finished. I've loaded up 7ish bags full of clothing, purses, shoes, etc. from my closet and they're packed like sardines in my trunk. I'll be taking them to Goodwill soon. It's funny how you have to make a bigger mess in order to clean up! There are still several things that I need to put away, but I'm in much better shape now. I even decluttered my master bathroom.
So my goals for the rest of the week are to finish the last little bit of my bedroom, make another quick sweep through my closet/dresser to see if I've left anything behind that I shouldn't have, and clean both bathrooms.
My next area I want to tackle is my office room. I actually worked on it a little bit today and it's not terrible. It's just that junk mail tends to pile up on my desk and I need to go through all that's left of it and shred it or throw it away. (I'm so glad I've got a big recycling bin.)
So here's a little story for you (maybe more than one story).
Last night, I was winding down on my cleaning spree and I was about to go to bed. I let Butter in and she was eating her dinner. She sleeps in her crate in the kitchen, but her crate was still in my car from when I picked her up at the kennel. I wanted to sweep the kitchen floor before I brought her crate in. (See how I get distracted?) So I finished loading the dishwasher while Butter was eating, and she got finished and ran into the living room to play with Mercy. Five minutes, I had my eyes off her! When I walked into the room on my way to get the broom, there was a big puddle in the middle of the floor. I screeched at her about what a bad girl she had been and how terrible her bathroom manners are and all kinds of thing. I might have even blamed her for the war in Iraq. Anyway, what did she do? She jumped up on the couch. The rest of our conversation went like this:
Me: Butter, you get down off of that couch. I can't trust you for two minutes! (I'm cleaning up the puddle at this point with the carpet cleaner and a towel)
Her: (Head cocks to one side. Deliberate tail wagging.)
Me: I mean it!
Her: (Jumps down on the floor and immediately jumps back on the couch.)
Me: That doesn't count! Get off the couch and stay off!
This goes on for the duration of the floor cleaning extravaganza.
Finally, I got up and pointed my finger in her face and said, "I told you to get off the couch! GET.OFF.THE.COUCH!"
Any guesses on what she did?
She did a flying leap over into a chair instead.
That dumb dog knows a thing or two about semantics.