Dear Dirt. I quit.

Dear Dirt,

I mean it this time.

I quit.  I really do.

It’s not enough that I vacuumed and cleaned the 1 million and 1 game pieces on the floor—that’s after feeding my kid a great lunch while I ate bread with butter.

It’s not enough that I loaded the dish washer and started it.

And got the baby down for a nap.

It’s not enough that I emptied the trash and the recycles and swept the mud room.

It’s not enough that I shoveled the coal and made sure our home stays warm.

YOU…

You devilish fiend keep coming back to hunt me down and destroy me!

I cleaned the room for the naught—because there are still crumbs in the carpet that I JUST can’t vacuum up.

I loaded the dishwasher, WHY?

Because now my floor has water all over it—WHEN did we even get a leak in the water hose?

I emptied the trash…REALLY?  Silly me!

Because those dogs—those dogs found their way through the trash gate and proceeded to strew ALL of it over the front lawn.  ALL.

Did I mention ALL???

Yes, Dirt.

I give up.

Now, my two toddlers are taking every toy imaginable out to play while I am cowering in the corner typing this LOVE LETTER to you.

Which, you can probably tell by now, is NOT a love letter to you.

So, Dirt.

You win.

I lose.

And now please come collect the children, the dirty dishes, the dogs, and the laundry…

These are the spoils of your victory.

I will still be cowering…hiding…in the corner until you come.

Honking will suffice—I’ll throw all culprits out the door and lock it, so there will be nowhere else to go but straight to you.

Love,

Me

(You KNOW who I am)

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