And Now, The Closet.

Finally, I get to the darn closet.  I am feeling so uninspired to do it too.  What's fun about a closet?  You walk in, grab what you need, walk out.  I have more fun plucking gray hairs (of course, there's only 1 that I will admit to, and I blame my children for it).

I've decided to start with the floor.  Figured I can't really get to the stuff on the shelves if I can't even walk in there.  And as promised, here's the Ugly Truth:

All those boxes have been sitting there since we moved in.  They're all labeled "Master Bath".  I don't seem to be missing anything (other than a curling iron).  I fear what I will find in there.  I'm sure Messy Kid will be happy to have her doll rescued from in there as well.

*POOF* Like magic, it's all cleaned out.  WOW, that is one messy carpet.  I'm thinking I'll just pull the carpet out and go with what's underneath.

ACK!  Holy 1968 Batman!  Never mind, I'll stick with the dirty carpet and clean it up.

Overall, the act of cleaning out the floor of the closet wasn't nearly as painful and I thought it was going to be.  Think splinters under your fingernail.  Now to tackle those blasted mystery boxes.  They've been around so long, I'm thinking Jimmy Hoffa might be in one of them.

I am going to have nightmares about that linoleum, tonight.  Man, that was scary.

Until Next Time,

Messy Mom