More dirt...

Monday, I decided to tackle Tate's room.  I pulled out an embarrassing amount of TRASH from underneath his bed.  I cleaned his room for FOUR HOURS.  I felt a twinge of guilt spending all this time cleaning Tate's room when we had an overnight guest coming that evening, but our guest swings through a lot when he's on the road, and he's more like family now, and family doesn't judge when your house is trashed, right?  No?  Okay, well, I guess I stopped caring then.

Anyhow, you might be thinking, "What was Darby up to when you were cleaning for four hours?"  Answer: I don't know.  (Joke...sort of)  Sometimes, you "gotta do what you gotta do," right?  She kept running in, tripping over stuff and running out, so I knew she was still alive.  After my marathon cleaning session, I did a couple loads of laundry, grocery shopping, made dinner, and all the sudden it was time for soccer and my five mile run.  Dallas got home from work, and sort of started freaking out because DVDs were thrown all over our living room.  That's a daily occurrence in the Hills household, and I see them more as "accessories" than DVDs strewn across the floor at this point in life.  On top of the DVDs, Darby, once again, dug the dirt out of my favorite plant in my favorite corner.  I knew all this would happen!  It's nothing new!  I just chose to overlook the somewhat catastrophic look of my family room.  Our friend, who is yet to become a parent, would have to overlook the mess (in my opinion).  My run would take precedence.  I mean, really, you have to prioritize, folks!  Come on!  Not Dallas's thought...at all.  He was willing to make the kids late for soccer in order to pick up the DVDs.  I told him to take the kids, and I'd deal with the mess.  He left for soccer.  The way I saw it after this is that I had to choose between vacuuming up the dirt OR picking up the DVDs.  I chose the DVDs.  Remember, I'd been cleaning all day long.  I was one swipe of the vacuum away from the local mental hospital.  So, after I straightened, I left for my run.

After soccer, we drove home, and our friend had arrived.

Awhile later, he said, "You want the good news, or the bad news?"  I always take the "bad news" first, given the choice, because sometimes the "good news" makes you feel better after hearing "bad news".  Dallas chose the "good news."  Our friend looked a little disappointed and then confessed, "Well, there really isn't any good news.  I looked over in the corner (pointing to my favorite plant), and there's dirt everywhere."  He looked a little unsure...you know, kinda "feeling us out" to see how we would react.  I gave a throw of the hand, "Oh, that happens almost daily."  He looked a little taken aback at our reaction.  "Dog?" He questioned, to which Dallas and I both replied in unison, "Darby."  But, seriously, man!  Haven't you HEARD the stories?!

The way I see it, a little bit of dirt is WAY better than the pile of petrified dog poo that was in our basement last Spring when he came through...