Any one who has visited my house in the last 8 years knows that it is often a mess. I cannot keep on top of it, and if you ask my parents, I couldn't do it as a teenager either.
It was a particularly... I mean, a regularly messy house two Sundays ago. My husband was getting ready to bring dinner to some friends who were feeling sick. "Do you remember their house number?" he asked.
As I walked to my phone to look up the information, I thought: you were just there twice yesterday to drop and pick up our daughter for a birthday party... wait...
I remembered the party invitation in the middle of the floor that I'd walked over at least 10 times in the last few hours. I stopped moving, looked down, turned my head, and read him the address.
I still can't decide whether it was an epic success or epic failure.
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