Why I Turn Off my Cell at Night, a 1500 Part Series

The only thing I promised myself that I'd get done during my two weeks off is make the back bedroom (generally used for storage and kitty litter) habitable by my impending guests. That, and bring Sim Brian back to life. You might think that cleaning a room would be less difficult than bringing someone back to life, but-- not so much.

Had quite the wonderful weekend with the fOlks; visited with the nephews, attended a kickass halloween party (in Lysa and Stan's spacious and clearly organized new casa) and spent a night in AC donating to Donald Trump's blackjack fund. I spent most of yesterday purging the closet in, what has come to be known as "the disaster bedroom" and reshuffling or donating a large portion of the items therein. As if by magic, I turned three boxes of stored hoohah into one box! Then I went to Target and bought a California Closets organization system. Brian and I spread the contraption and all its 2000 parts all over the living room floor and began to put the stupid thing together. After what felt like a good while of assembling, I got some kind of pre-installed stinky grease on me, had a tantrum, and gave up for the night. First thing this morning, a good 4-6 hours before I was planning on being awake, I found myself racing to the ringing phone, slipping on parts G and J, and falling squarely on my ass with a THWAP reminiscent of lox hitting a bagel. Yeah, that's how I roll.

So, how's your morning going so far?