So I'm a little rebellious.... just a smidge.... a sliver really.... okay, maybe not even a tiny bit, but we can pretend can't we?

I used to be what you could call a "rebel" I use the term loosely because while I don't necessarily think I did anything too rebellious, I'm sure my mother would beg to differ. But that's a whole 'nother topic for a whole 'nother day. Anyhow, this "rebellious" side of me has been causing some grief lately.

And not your typical problems either. In fact, these little problems? Only. Affect. Me... so you would think I'd get off my rear and just take care of things already. Lost? Me too.

Here's the breakdown.

So, we tried to sell our house. Plans changed and we're still here. But for the few months that it was on the market? I abhorred cleaning. And cooking. And anything at all house related. This is not like me. I'm a clean freak.

Except for when I have to be.

It's true. The day the sign came down? I mopped my floors.... by hand, just the way I like them. I also trimmed the trees, mowed the lawn, caught up on the laundry, and finally cleaned those bathrooms. Why? Because I didn't have to anymore. But when a realtor would call to schedule an appointment, I'd look around my house, think to myself "Screw it" and load up the kids to go over to grandma's for an hour.

But now that there are no phone calls? I'm enjoying the hum of the vacuum once again.

It doesn't make any sense to me either.