Captain's Log, Stardate 2012: Phase One

11:35a.m.

Slurping spit constantly due to bleach trays. Life on this Home planet is quiet. Most life forms are at school. Smallest one soothed by Hello Kitty video. Huge mess here. Taking before pictures. Entered intent in previous entry, spent 45 minutes.

12:10p.m.

Small one expressing extreme activity, may need nourishment soon. She may be the key to my success--labeling her "X-Factor."  Will not stay upstairs, keeps scurrying downstairs to bother daddy who is trying to work from home today. Reminding me of that Tribble episode on Star Trek. Or Gremlins. If she starts to divide madly, will run from house. Not getting very far on the cleaning.

1:00p.m.

Fed Tribble-Amy and myself some lunch. Explained 8 times to her why we don't watch Barbie Fairytopia video in the family room next to daddy's office. Waited through a 10-minute-tantrum. Heading back upstairs.

Mystery stacks

1:15p.m.

Wading through all the stuff I pulled out of my closet.  There are boxes lining the short hall between the bedroom and bath. From the other direction, they extend out into the hallway almost to the laundry room. Didn't know I had so many knitting baskets. Like 5. And several bags--Nordstroms, Fred Meyer (grocery), T.J. Maxx--filled with odds and ends, too. Put them on top of the boxes.

1:30p.m.

Decide that a shower would make my mind more settled. Put Tribble-Amy in front of the T.V. Husband comes upstairs, sees the mess. Cries out, "I had no idea you had this much yarn!!!" Get into an argument over alleged hidden receipts from Jimmy Beans Wool.

1:45p.m.

Take a shower. Amy's show is over. Tribble in my shower. Water hits her, no transformation. Relieved that she is not a Gremlin. Window is open by the shower. Leads outside to neighborhood walkway. Neighbors walk by, hearing Amy screaming and me telling her she can't put soap in her eyes.

2:15

Really? Didn't plan on cleaning drawers.

Deciding on what outfit is cozy, feels "organized" and makes me look thinnest. Choose leggings and a fitted white sweatshirt. White is "clean," right? Put makeup on. Linger in the mirror to make sure I feel as thin as possible.

3p.m.

Took too long on the make-up. Look again at the mess. Walk around it, assessing the damage. Decide to go to Fred Meyer for more Rubbermaid containers. Will better hide the exposed stash. More marital bliss.  Head back to the mirror before I leave. Check another angle on the outfit.

3:10p.m.

Leave for store. Amy wants a cookie at the bakery. Purchase two large, clear bins. Head outside. Forgot to get the cookie. Head back inside, get cookie, head out and go home.

The view through my hair--seen here by the "halo" on the frame.

4:15p.m.

Try to settle back in to cleaning. Realize I had an hour and 15 minutes before I have to pick up my daughter from play practice. Then it will be dinner.

5p.m.

Pull miscellaneous items out of several bags and spread them out all over the bed and chest at the foot of said bed. Create a photo shoot site on the oak chest. Get out the camera. Don't know what Tribble-Amy is doing. Take a few pictures.


5:30p.m.

Leave to get Annie from play practice. Arrive 5 minutes late. Hurry home.

6:p.m.

Husband see my crazed look. Offers to get dinner out. Breath sigh of relief.

Helper Amy at 11p.m.

12a.m.

Stayed up way too late. Husband forced to fall asleep on the couch downstairs while I was still taking pictures of the yarn and writing down details for further entry into Ravelry's storage area on my page. Eyes are stinging. Not sure, but Tribble-Amy may be sleepingin a box of yarn. Don't dare to look in the mirror.

Yarn Tribble

One thing is certainly true: there are no real Tribbles here. Only UFO's.