Ooof. Sorry for the radio silence, y'all. We had a nasty run-in with impetigo (I know! eewwww!!!) and I've been so skeeved out that I could barely think without my brain going into squick-out mode.
On the plus side my house is now practically sterile, and my pediatrician confirmed that washing the bath mat every day was probably overkill. Anyway, since I had already de-bacteriafied the main living part of the house, the hall bathroom and both boys' bedrooms (only one had it and for his privacy's sake I'll not say which one), this weekend I was inspired to hit up the master bedroom.
Let's just say it was past due.
In the end of it all, I scraped out the entire room including my dresser drawers and closet. Choreboy lacks my hoarding tendencies and thus was not part of the Grand De-Mucking outside of moral support and vacuuming assistance. I ended up trashing a small garbage bag worth of clothes and filling a HUGE -- I think 37 gallon? -- bag for donating. I also went into the bathroom vanity and threw out fully 75% of the junk under the sink.
All my clothes fit in my drawers and closet. My shoes are also in the closet rather than piled by my dresser.
Choreboy can't stop smiling. I can't say I blame him.
Oh, and just as a general note? After age forty it is perfectly acceptable to throw away the plaid dress with the Peter Pan collar, the teal paisley number with shoulder pads, and the Flashdance sweaters.
Yes I totally had to have that conversation with myself.
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