kicking puppies is bad

On September 3rd of last year, I wrote a journal entry about crudités and a trip to Chimney Bluffs State Park. For those of you who care, it’s available here. For those of you who are too lazy to click the link, the basic idea of the journal entry was that my sister somehow thought that green peppers and peanut butter would be good combination, and brought them on our trip. When I questioned her judgment, she threatened to beat me with a flaccid carrot.

Also noted in that entry was that my puppy is really pretty and has an exceptionally long tongue (but that is completely irrelevant to the current entry). This trip was 231 days ago (according to www.timeanddate.com, because I am way too lazy to actually calculate that).

This afternoon, I went to dinner with my sister. As I was dropping her off, she said, “Do you still have my backpack?” I replied that I thought it might be in my laundry room. After our voyage to Chimney Bluffs last fall, my sister put her backpack in the trunk of my car. It remained there until Christmas when I was delivering three friends to the airport. I needed trunk space and hastily emptied my trunk into my laundry room.

My laundry room is a disaster. It’s really gross. I try to not to be a totally gross person. The rest of my house is actually quite clean – thanks mostly to a wonderful woman from craigslist who scours it biweekly for a mere $45. She is amazing. But there are two rooms that she doesn’t scour. And the laundry room is one of them. So the laundry room never gets cleaned. And the buried backpack remained there until tonight. Tonight it was unearthed, as were the remainder of the 231 day old crudités. Ick….

There really was no point to posting this. I should clean out the laundry room. Who knows what other treasures are waiting to be unearthed. Instead I’m going to ballroom. Foxtrot makes me smile. Cleaning the laundry room does not make me smile. Any other disgustingness in my laundry room will have to wait.