When it is enough? When can I be done? I am pooped, my feet hurt, and my hands smell like rubber gloves. I really like to start the weekend with a full fridge, clean laundry, and a tidy house. Its easier to relax that way. But, man, what a pain in the ass.
So, I'll put in two more hours, one and half minimum, and then I'm done for the day. Enough is enough. By Monday morning, this whole house will look like a tornado went through it, anyway. Dishes will be piled up, the stove will be greasy, there will be clothes and crap everywhere, and I'll have to clean up all over again. What the hell is the point? And don't get me started on Leila's room: she hasn't gotten sick of living in a shit hole yet, and none of her dirty laundry made it in to the hamper for laundry day today.
Have a good weekend, everybody