I won't ever vaccuum in heels and pearls.

Help! I'm turning into June Cleaver with a swearing habit. Or Martha Stewart without the prison record.

Thanks to being unemployed, the majority of this moving BS is my responsibility. I don't mind that, it keeps me busy. What's starting to be strange is that I cook, I clean and when I take a break I work on my afghan. What's happening? I love to cook, in fact, if I could find someone who'd pay me to cook for them I'd do it in a heartbeat. I hate cleaning, though...and I always will. It never ends, once I settle down for hardcore cleaning, it always snowballs into more cleaning. Yesterday was my bathroom, today is the hall closet (otherwise known as the Elephant Graveyard.) As for the afghan, it's pretty, and I want it done by winter, because despite how the fact that I've lived here all my life I am still shocked at how cold it gets here. Life's just getting a little too house-wifey. Phew, good thing I'm single.

I lost my earring sometime this morning. It was annoying, and I managed to find the actual earring...but I still couldn't find the back. About 20 minutes later, I felt something peculiar--and after a quick search found the earring back inside my bra. So maybe I should say I'm turning into Peggy Bundy. I hope I don't lose my cell today...