I like lists. Really they make my life run more smoothly.
Yesterday I wrote out a list of things I want and need to get done before Will comes home. One of the items on the list is to shampoo the carpets. Another is to sweep the garage. It is really gross. They are all things that will easily be accomplished by the fifteenth. IF I can stop making more work for myself.
Apparently Rhayn's room has been neglected far too long. I don't really look at it when I hang up clothes. But this morning, I did. She keeps the center of the floor of the room clean. But in order to do this, she fills every available space with her little trinkets. She couldn't even use her desk for writing because it was so covered in crap.
I attempted to trade desks with her. Moving the big ugly office desk into my room to give her the smaller desk. Instead I broke her desk. I am sure its not beyond repair. However it is ugly and I would rather replace it with something like this, or maybe a vanity. Maybe I can rework my original sofa table idea into a desk for her (pictured below), because Will doesn't like it anyway. The legs are supposed to be a drafting table, so it wouldn't be hard to just turn them. Or maybe even replace MY desk and repaint the one I am using for her. That would be ideal, my desk is nice enough. It would make a great little desk for her to do homework at. And wouldn't you know, I bought her a chair on clearance at Target today, too. I was finally replacing her folding chair with an office chair, and I go and destroy her desk. Irritating.
Back to my original point, what was that? Oh yes, lists. My love of lists. Lists of lists. I am a lover of lists. I don't even remember if I had a point to this post. Maybe it was just a reason to sit down and think.