I am a haphazard housekeeper, at best.
I didn’t used to be. Before I met my husband and had my son, my house was pristine, every surface a glorious, bare expanse: no pictures, no tchotchkes, no vases or plants. My bed was always made, my books always shelved, my paperwork and bills hidden away.
I even had rules about the way I kept my refrigerator: containers lined up by size, cheeses and meats in the deli drawer, fruits and veggies in the crisper, and only liquids on the top shelf since that’s the tallest shelf and liquid containers are the tallest items in the fridge.
No top-shelf solids. Not ever. Read more →
Holidays have never been easy in my family. Emotions run high, grudges resurface, nasty disagreements are aired in all their screaming glory. Read more →