Tuesday it was bathrooms. That's the evening cousin Ariana hangs out at our house while Aunt Julia drives the big girls to Hebrew School. So, first we all read stories together, and then we all cleaned the upstairs bathroom. All three of us squirting cleaning supplies and stepping over each other to scrub. I yelled at David for overusing his squirt bottle, and then I thought, what is my problem? The boy is cleaning the bathroom.

Wednesday I tidied my room. Ugh. The good news is I found the recording device and directions for how to use the recording device. Good because I was supposed to be taping iambic pentameter poetry for a client. I also found the emissions test paperwork and a check I was supposed to have mailed months ago. Ugh.

Thursday the kids had one of their worst fights ever over who got to clean which downstairs room. (Not, mind you, whether they had to clean, but what they got to clean.) There was screaming. There were tears. There was poaching of the dusting rags. Eventually, they sorted it out. Rose, of course, dusted with great attention. But to my surprise, David did a fine job as well. Then he insisted on sweeping while I lay on the couch and insisted on remopping which led to some pretty slippery floors.

Friday, a day to retidy. The kids had been building forts with all the blankets and sofa cushions. So, I asked that they return to their upright and locked positions. There are still random objects strewn around the downstairs that must get thrown behind a closet door because tomorrow morning at 9:30 I am having a poetry writing workshop in my home.

I am seriously considering taking some of the earnings from my business and hiring a cleaner.