Clean Sheets

I just turned in my first big freelance writing assignment. Big, as in entire corporate website big. It's been two weeks of squeezing scanty bits of writing in around Nicholas' sub par napping habits and then cobbling together any other free time I can find to write. Late nights. Early mornings. For 17 minutes while I can distract Nicholas in his jumper. You get the gist. Everything else has fallen by the wayside.

Thanks to my postpartum hormones, the floor of my bathroom is covered in a carpet of hair so thick I could easily go into to the wig making business. If this writing thing doesn't pan out. Gross. But true.

Meanwhile there are no less than 6 loads of clean laundry scattered in piles across every flat surface in the house. I am not exaggerating. It might be 7 loads. Or 8. At least it's clean?

And I just found a whole peppercorn on the floor of my bedroom. Ponder that for a second. A peppercorn. That either says something significant about the intensity of my culinary passions... or that I just really, really need to vacuum.

But. But. I'm wearing clean pajamas and my bed awaits me, neatly made, with clean sheets. Those clean sheets make everything else a little more manageable. They assure me that order will soon be restored to my world. And that tonight, I will sleep well.