Tuesday, October 12, 2010


I clean. I scrub. I dust. I sweep. I vacuum. I wipe. I spray. I clean.

Nearly every form of “cleaning” that there is … I do. At some point. Every week.

This is something I was raised with {thanks mom} and something my husband says he appreciates about me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a neurotic kind of cleaner/scrubber. I can let it slide a little longer, as long as the thing needing to be cleaned isn’t in my direct line of regular passage {which otherwise screams at me to clean it}. I wouldn’t even consider myself a neat-freak. I just find a clean house to be … refreshing and relaxing.

Living on a ranch requires many {excuse me, extra emphasis is needed: MANY} extra hours of cleaning. More space means more dirt means more dust means more pledge-dusting-spray.

All this to say, some things are just unavoidable, I guess:


Like a dead mouse in the middle of the living room, or …


The frog that got squished in the door jam.

Oh, ranch-life.


Sarah Benson said...

hahaha! That's funny and disturbing at the same time!

Anonymous said...

AHHHH!!! that poor frog... you're so brave!!