We're doing a "spring cleaning" weekend over here at the house of Paranoid. Granny's got M, so The Boy and I have two whole days to whip this house into shape (no small task, given that we're both natural slobs.) I've spent naptimes this week trying to declutter so we can really work on deep cleaning this weekend.
Last night, the Boy comes home and commences sorting boxes that have been sitting, un-noticed, since we moved here three years ago. Most of it is total crap that he refused to discard when we packed it in the first place. I don't mind him finally deciding to get rid of this stuff, but he left it ALL OVER THE ROOM I JUST SPENT HOURS DECLUTTERING! And I know he's going to complain that it'll take almost our whole decluttering time allowance to clean it up again.
I know my Boy is wonderful, hardworking, considerate, capable and overall great. But just at this moment, I'd like to smack him around a little.