I’ve said it before.

I live . . .

a life . . .

of irony.

I should really expect these things to happen.

Last Friday, I wrote a post about my friend whose home is always clean and who finds joy in her cleaning routine.  I mentioned how she regularly moves her furniture when she vacuums.

I might have just thought I was pretty funny when I then said something like:

“(I’ve accidentally moved my furniture before, and moved it right back . . . choosing to deliberately delete from my memory what I saw under there.)”

OK, fine.  I did think I was funny.

Now for the irony . . . 

Two days later, while our Sunday night home group was here, one of the sweet, recently-mobile babies reminded me of something I had forgotten, now that I am no longer in the baby stage.

Even though I justify pretending that the junk under the couch doesn’t exist because I can’t see it, recently mobile babies . . .

. . . are eye level with it.  

And that seriously adorable boy kept coming up with random dust-bunny-covered items that he was finding under there.

So today, I decided to be a martyr, and actually cleaned under my couches.  See, moving couches seems like a spring-cleaning task, and I tend to put off those kinds of tasks because there are so many other, more obvious, trip-over-able tasks to be done.

I found all kinds of things under there.  Crafts, coasters, a single swim-shoe three sizes smaller than any of my kids can wear.  Most of it I threw away, reasoning that if I hadn’t missed it, I could live without it.

But I also found . . . . the library book that we lost!!!

Last summer.

Yay!!!  We’re not crazy.  It didn’t disappear into thin air!

Ugh.  Now we have to show our faces in the library again, return it, and pay the life-savings-esque fine.

And just in case you’re tilting your head, smiling with closed lips, and thinking that I shouldn’t act like I’ve been singled out by some kind of cosmic plan to make my slob-life laughable . . . that same home group includes someone who is 6 feet and 7 inches tall!!!!

Seriously.  He can see the top of my fridge without even standing on his tip-toes!

Is there no place for this slob to hide in her own home???

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