When I get home tonight (that is, if I don't have to work at Pottery Barn) I want to walk in the door and blink my eyes and have this happen:
-magically clean bathrooms
-clean, folded and put away laundry
-mopped and glimmering kitchen floor
-oh, and a clean car would be nice
So that I'm not:
-all of the above
Why do I let household chores stress me out? How come I can't come home and relax like my husband begs and pleads? Why do I think it's not okay to veg on my couch and watch TV all night with take out and a glass of wine? Poor Cardy, he gets the brunt of my craziness (sorry, Baby). Can you imagine if I had real stress in my life?