Mr. Clean deserves a big fat kiss.

With tongue. On top of that, if it were socially acceptable to publicly declare my love for Swiffer with people thinking I was doing something freaky with cleaning products, I would.

I cleaned today. Not a lot, so don't go getting all shocked and awed or anything. But I cleaned enough that you could see the original color and wood grain of the kitchen table, and the kitchen and entry way floors are not actually chocolate milk flavored. Well...they aren't supposed to be. Mine are most of the time though. Not my fault. Wait...um...I don't actually taste the floors...so umm....never mind about those flavored floors. Anyway.

I also discovered that the nice brown carpet in my bathroom isn't actually carpet. Apparently I shed. A lot.

All of this cleaning was for a guest. I really wasn't trying to impress him, but I figured he shouldn't have to enter my house only to leave with an overwhelming compulsion to have to wash his ankles at the corner fire hydrant.

But I digress. House cleaner. Not spotless. I am not Suzie-fucking-homemaker. Sue me.

On a funny note, I was waiting for a light earlier today and there was a bumper sticker on the car in front of me that made me laugh for a good 5 minutes. I needed that.

It said...

"St. Augustine - A great little drinking village with a fishing problem."

If you have ever been there...or anywhere like it...you'll get it.

I am off to bed now. Clean sheets are on tomorrow's to do list.