There is laundry on my dining room floor.

Future Bag Lady in Mary Poppins the Musical.

There is laundry all over my dining room floor.

And I have decided to call it quits for the day--to take off to the proverbial golf course and hit a few balls.

There is also a Tupperware container with fruit in the middle of the living room, which I will let rot.

The sink in the Hello Kitty bathroom is filled with wet clothes and what appears to be a pile of Squinkies (oh well!) And Lily keeps asking me for various cleaning supplies--Windex, paper towels and most disturbing, bleach (maybe she can deal with the fruit situation).

I have no idea what has gone on. And I have no idea what I am going to serve for dinner. And I think I forgot to put deodorant on. And I might, I just might smell like urine. Although, that smell could be coming from anywhere.

But, I am now off the clock. The house might burn. The neighbors might wonder why we are all getting dressed in the dining room. But I am quitting, for today. 


I have no clear idea how I arrived in this very spot--the spot where I fear allowing anyone to even peek in the windows. The spot where I consider drinking at 4:30 in the afternoon while hiding in the bathroom closet. The spot where picketing my own house and going on strike seems appropriate. I have no idea what I am protesting, exactly. I am just completely, totally bewildered, befuddled and babbling.

My day began at some point in the middle of the night when Lily woke up crying about something.

I have no idea what this "something" was exactly, but I do know that every time I attempted to leave her room, she would wail, as if being spirited away in the middle of the night by Mother Gothel and I resigned myself to sleeping on the very edge of the bed with an Easter Bunny pillow pet as a pillow.

While I enjoyed my plush accommodations, Lily slept with one eye open (on look out to make sure I did not escape before sunrise) and  Chloe pushed around her Minnie Mouse Bowtique shopping cart. Apparently, her puppy had to go to the hospital, over and over again in order to get shots.This went on for hours. And hours.  In fact, Chloe is still taking her puppy to the "hospital," while intermittently stopping to scream at me wildly about tutus.

She will play a fantastic homeless person in Mary Poppins someday.

So, back to the laundry. I sort of remember the children being tasked with "finding all the socks" last night. Then I remember leaving. Followed by returning. Followed by falling asleep full of hope in my own bed, before waking up in Lily's room feeling hungover.

I have no idea, however, why the clothes are still there. Or when the Squinkies migrated upstairs and jumped into the sink and why, oh, why is Lily spraying ME with Windex.

So, I quit.

For today.