I Dreamed the Whole House Was Clean...

OK, so the last two weeks have been insane, schedule-wise. My house is out of control. I gave up on dishes a week ago. I mean literally gave up. It was a relief, because I knew I'd have no time to do them in the foreseeable future. Giving up just got rid of that pesky guilt thing. We had used every single piece of silverware in the house. We even went through most of the utensils and big knives. You ever try to spread butter with a cleaver?

Is four days of wearing the same pants really crossing the line? Not this week. Spray some Febreeze and those throw those babies in the dryer for a few minutes. Oh please, like you've never done it.

When the dog hair on the floor has gathered itself up into balls the size of small pets in their own right, things have turned a corner. No, those aren't guinea pigs skittering about on the stairs, I just need to sweep, people.

Grocery shopping? Right. Let me introduce you to a little Northwest phenomenon called Taco Del Mar. Being vegetarians, we don't have many options for fast cheap food you don't have to cook yourself. If you eliminate fried food on top of that, the pickins get real slim. Yes, there's China First, but it's not really that cheap since their dishes don't actually include the rice. I mean really, what kind of cheap stunt is that? Throw in a few spring rolls, and before you know it, you're a big spender. Subway? Please, those guys have no idea how to make a vegetarian sandwich. Take away the meat, and they're clueless. They look at you blankly, throw on a couple of extra tomato slices, and call it a day. Quiznos is actually okay, but they're not right around the corner.

Taco Del Mar has real burritos, bigass mission-style burritos, not that nastyass anemic Taco Bell shit. They even make a vegetarian burrito that consists of more than iceberg lettuce and a few sorry shreds of cheese. And they have frequent buyer cards. Buy yourself 10 of those bad boys, and bam, your next burrito is free. Easy.

So yeah, things have kind of slipped through the cracks at the old homestead.

You know it's bad when your teenage daughter calls as you're leaving work, and says don't worry about dinner, she's got it. The menu? Baked fish, broccoli, and rice. And she's buying the fixins with her own hard earned cash. Yeah. Guess her body finally rebelled against those tasty black bean burritos (which are actually quite healthy) and frozen pizza. Hey, I did juice up the pizza with our own mushrooms and peppers and stuff, but I guess at the end of the day, there's just no hiding the fact that it's Red Baron.

Anyway, we got the dishes washed over the weekend. The kitchen looks normal again. I haven't tackled the fur doglets yet. Baby steps. It took nearly three weeks for it get this way; it's not going to clean itself overnight.

Time to hit the sack. The infomercials are starting. And yes, as a matter of fact, those are Birkenstocks I'm wearing with my striped knee socks. I'm not going Pacific Northwest on you, people; dog hair matted all over the bottom of one's socks is just nasty.