~ While we're at it, sort through the clothes in everyone's drawers, pack away outgrown items into the appropriate boxes, count t-shirts.
~ Shampoo the front room carpet. (Okay this one was nonessential, but it looks so much better now.)
~ Wipe the kitchen cupboards; remove the little gnats that are plastered there, apparently drawn by the lights Mark likes to leave on at night.
~ Clean out the fridge.
~ Soak the lawn.
~ Rake the fallen branches from under the willow tree. (This one thanks to Roscoe.)
~ Get Roscoe packed for a wilderness survival campout.
~ Remove dead herbs from the kitchen pots; plant new seeds.
~ Go grocery shopping; reintroduce the kitchen to things like eggs and apples.
~ Reintroduce myself to the gym.
~ Sort toys in playroom cubbies. (This one thanks to Logan.)
~ Dust. Everything.
~ Remove 7 weeks of soap scum from the shower.
Last night I asked Mark if when he came home he was immediately struck by the aura of cleanliness and a woman's touch. I mean, there was baking bread and everything. He looked confused by the question: "Uh, I didn't really notice." Oh well. But I'm definitely feeling more at home in my home.
And Mark is quite justified in asking me to point out that all those boxes of Hostess in the fridge were given to him by some ward member offloading soon-to-expire items from their store.