Decluttering. Some more.

It seems pretty clear that the Balabusta and the fella are going to move out of their current domicile come the lease is up.

There are a few problems with our El Cerrito cottage which have come up since the summer. Most of them have to do with water. The base of the sliding shower doors fills up, and spills over onto the floor, necessitating mopping, and, I suspect, warping the floor covering. The dishwasher misses when it spits into the sink, and floods the counters. And sometimes the toilet bubbles and gurgles while we're washing clothes. No, I'm not sure either. It just does.

And the layout is a little weird. It's hard to have friends over. (Maybe we should reconsider a couch when we move again.)

Also, the landlord takes the most ungodly amount of time to cash checks. Sometimes as much as six weeks. That's just plain annoying.

But the key issue right now is not the house's fault, the key issue right now is that the place is a mess.

Neither the Balabusta nor the fella are natural housekeepers. We put this off on laziness, and busyness, and both of these have something to do with it, but the fact of the matter is just that neither of us really has a clear grasp on how to keep a household tidy. We put things down, and they stay there until we need them again, or sometimes until we FIND them again.

It's annoying. Because, you know, being a Balabusta is one of my major life goals.

Right now I am trying again. I'm working on the living room. I have already found my long-sleeved orange T-shirt. I'm not going to tell you where it was. But I have it again, and will wear it to work tomorrow to celebrate it's reappearance.