Bathroom ADD, AKA here’s why I get nothing done

C took big girls out on errands. I’m home alone with a sleeping baby. Perfect time to get something done, right? Right.


Grab cleaning agents and paper towels.

Oops, almost out of surface cleaner. Mix more.

Head to bathroom.

Commence clearing debris belongings from countertop.

No, cat, I don’t want to pet you. [shoves cat off counter]

Hmmm…this item goes into the cabinet. And this one. And this one. And this one.

Oooh, the cabinet’s a mess too.

Sort, sort, sort…

Vicodin! Score! Wait, it’s expired. Trash.

Oooh stinky lotion that not only do I not use, but it’s so old that it probably smells like old, musty feet! Keep. It’s my old hospital bed rest lotion and is obviously sentimental. Yes, I’ve seen Hoarders: Buried Alive, why do you ask?

Oh look, scar gel, meant to magically make stretch marks disappear! Guess what? It works just about as well as the cocoa butter that was supposed to prevent the stretch marks in the first place. Trash.

No, cat, I do not want to pet you! [Drop kicks cat out bathroom door. Cat returns unscathed, hopefully minus one life.]

More Vicodin! Not expired! Score again! Why am I so excited about this? I can barely handle Tylenol.

Sort, sort, sort…

Oh, man, those higher shelves need to be organized too.

Wait, I was supposed to be cleaning the rest of the bathroom.

Ugh, I’m tired. Doesn’t this bathroom know I am only one woman?

At least I found some Vicodin.

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