Get to cleaning, woman!

So the day started out just like any other day. Meaning I slept too late, ran around trying to find something to wear that wasn't a.) wrinkled b.) dirty c.) Aaron's, and put my hair in a clippy that was missing a tooth. The past month at work has been very stressful and I have been working about 60 hours a week. It takes everything in me to just get out of bed in the morning. Getting dressed in something that matches is no easy feat. And the hair! Don't get me started on the hair.

Anyhow, on this particularly dreary day, I let the dog outside to go potty while I found something to spray Febreeze on and throw in the dryer to de-wrinkle wear and when I called him in, was shocked at the amount of mud on his little paws. I wanted to go out and investigate the situation, but I wasn't wearing a bra. Or pants. I grabbed the closest thing I could find to wipe his paws. Aaron's boxers. He will never know, so if you tell him, I will deny that it ever happened.

Little Duke Monster ate his breakfast, I continued with my rushed morning routine, and after taking the time to put on proper undergarments and pants, I went outside with him to make sure he was...um, okay to spend the rest of the day inside. As we walked close to the tomato plants I despised planting in the first place (because I hate dirt and bugs and worms), I noticed that not only had my tomato plants been dug up, they had been tossled around the yard.

Please know that I do not condone animal abuse, but seriousy, I wanted to kick Duke right square in the butt. With my shoe. That didn't match my shirt.

Recalling that I was already leaving the house 15 minutes later than usual, and I needed to make my daily Panera stop for their iced tea laced with cocaine, I put Duke in his cage, grabbed my keys, my lunch, my sweater because it's cold in the office, my phone, and my purse, and ran out the door.

Let's recap. Dug up tomato plants in backyard. Muddy paw prints all over kitchen floor. Aaron's boxers, now also covered in mud, laying on laundry room floor. Fourteen shirts I thought about wearing, but didn't wear because they were a.) wrinkled b.) dirty c.) Aaron's thrown about the bedroom. And my dirty undergarments on the floor because even when I don't get up early enough to take a shower, I still like to be clean. THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

When I got to work, I had an email from my realtor that someone wanted to see the house. Today. At 4 pm. I emailed her back and said:

"My house is a disaster. Our only hope of them buying our house is if they like dog hair and dirty dishes"

To which she replied:

"I'm afraid if they don't see it today, they won't want to reschedule"

Then she called. And someone else wants to see the house at 1 pm. Breathe in, breathe out. These people have seen dog hair and dirty dishes right?!

And at that very moment, I remember the muddy floor, clothes strewn bedroom, boxers on the floor, and the kicker of all kickers, embarraser of all embarressers: the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter.

In case you weren't paying attention up to this point, my realtor showed my house twice today. WITH A PREGNANCY TEST ON THE COUNTER.

We will be living in this house for the absolute rest of our lives.