The Dilemma of Boredom

I don't know if it's the fabled "nesting" syndrome of pregnant women, if my New Year's resolutions are actually catching (seriously doubt that, though), or if my homeopathic medicine is really kicking in, but I've been on a neat streak for two weeks now.

(Okay, no sarcastic comments of disbelief or fainting attacks, please.)

Seriously, I've organized my kitchen, my bathroom, my bedroom, and every other room in the house except the attic, and I've run out of things to fix. (The attic is too cold. I have discovered that the cleaning bug is extinguished at temperatures below 32 degrees). Even Handyman has noticed the glow emanating from the house, and he's usually oblivious to anything but food and football.

I am confronted with a new dilemma that I've never faced before - boredom.

Usually when I suffer from "normal" boredom or general malaise (hee hee, isn't that a great word?), my angst is mitigated by the piles of laundry and sundry chores waiting for me throughout the house. What am I going to do with myself now? What? My whole system of self-degradation is gone with the clutter and junk. This new feeling of self-contentedness is completely disrupting my Calvanistic theology.

Oh, hang on a second . . . . Breanna's up . . . . .

And she just puked all over her room. Ahhhhhhh, life is back to normal!