Wednesday, October 24, 2012


In an effort to make my house look somewhat presentable, I have attempted to de-clutter, which is a nice term for tossing crap. My house is overflowing with crap. Some of it is hubby's, a lot of it is mine, but the bulk of it belongs to the kiddo. There are random pieces from long-lost toys, plastic junk from the "treasure box", forgotten candy wrappers under the table (thank you, kindergarten!), and paper. And more paper. And even more paper.

If I could turn all the paper in my house back into trees, we would have a small forest. There are notices from school, pages from coloring books, schoolwork, notes to the kiddo's friends that never got delivered, notes from the kiddos friends that did get delivered, drawings, get the idea.

So, in an effort to clean up, I grabbed any loose paper that wasn't a) official, b) sentimental, or c) interesting,  and threw it away. Unfortunately, I tossed a paper that had some significance to the kiddo. That, however, is not the problem. The problem is that I put it in the kitchen trash can and didn't cover it up. You guessed it--she found it, and the tears began. It was in the trash with some pretty unsavory stuff, so it was ruined and she knew better than to try to retrieve it, but that didn't stop her from letting me know just how displeased I had made her.

I feel terrible. Not because she was distraught over a piece of paper, but because I got caught. The next time, the crap goes straight into the big trash can.

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