My house is a freakin' pigsty. It got completely out of control last year, when I had surgery three times, and I can't seem to get caught up. I can't find things, and it seems that no matter how hard I try to sort and organize, someone comes through and creates a pile that mixes everything back together. Part of the problem is that we have no room for storing things that aren't used very often, so they're in the middle of the floor so I can trip over them regularly. My hands hurt. It hurts to do dishes. It hurts to fold clothes. It hurts to put clothes on the line, and to take them off the line. I've been asking both Hubby and Miss KT for two weeks to wash the glass mixing bowls stacked on the counter, because I'm afraid I'll drop them. I just washed them myself. I managed to sort out two of Hubby's T-shirt drawers, filling a bag for Goodwill, and he wants to keep them so he can work on the car. We have NO room to keep a lot of stuff like this. And then, the clothes that I didn't get to, because my hands were hurting? Are tossed back in the laundry basket, so I can sort them out again, and hopefully find a place to put them before someone else looks for something and unfolds everything. There's a basket sitting in the living room, too, full of clean clothes. I'm trying to put away groceries, and didn't notice Hubby had set two bottles of wine in front of the freezer door. When I pulled open the freezer, I got hit with both bottles. Hard. Right on my big toe. The kitchen has stacks of junk, one end of the living room is unusable, and Hubby's solution is to buy plastic bins and fill them up. Does the junk just disappear if we can't see it? I can't lift the bins because they're heavy and they're stacked too high, and apparently I'm asking for help in Chinese or something because NOBODY listens. It's nearly 10 pm, and it's still 93 degrees. I hate the heat. Swamp coolers don't work well when it's this hot. I hurt. I'm exhausted. I'm ticked off. Thanks for listening.