Domestic Unrest

You know how when people have things they need to attend to they say, "oh my laundry is calling me, or duty calls ,or housework beckons" *-* My chores do not call or beckon. No, that is too polite. My household drudgery mocks me, laughs evilly at me, dares me to tackle the dishes piled in my sink and the goo in the plasticware that used to be leftovers in the back of the fridge. The laundry hamper, full of clean clothes that need folding waits impatiently for me to empty it just so it can be filled again. And don't get me started on the clutter that breeds and multiplies like bunnies. Why doesn't anybody else notice it? I'm tired of all the stuff that needs to be dusted, swept, scrubbed, scooped, (eew, kitty! Why?) and de-odorized. (That's usually hubby's fault.) I'm all for embracing one's inner Goddess, but I do not want to be a Domestic Goddess. She's no fun at all.