Steve's been busy tearing plaster off of our bedroom walls and while he's in the midst of this project, our mattress sits in the middle of the living room floor making the room either one giant trampoline or an orgy den, depending on which of my co-habitants you're asking.
The rest of the place is equally upturned — the expanse of one room's worth of stuff is pretty impressive. I continually circulate through the house trying to maintain some kind of order, and what I keep finding is that as much as Anna can't seem to return a single goddamned thing to its proper place, I might actually be worse at it.
Below, I present photo evidence that while I am a good wife in many ways, I might also deserve to be smothered in my sleep.
Thankfully, it would be really hard for my current roommates to evict me; one would risk certain malnourishment while the other would spend weeks wandering around the house yelling, "Somebody wipe me!" I'll let you all sort out who's who.