The Price of Hygiene

This afternoon, I decided to multitask and clean my shower while I cleaned myself. I sprayed the tile and floor down with cleaner, scrubbed until it was clean and then took a shower. About halfway through Moggie came in wanting to shower with me so I turned on the second shower head and let her hop in with me. When I got out, she stayed in and I went into my bedroom to get some underwear and looked toward the door to the hall and saw this:



Really. I just don't even know how to begin handling this kind of shit. Obviously my vacuum will be involved in the housekeeping portion of this problem, but what in the hell makes a child who can read, write and do addition and subtraction at four years old make such a stupid decision about what to do in her downtime? The girls have a lovely playroom with any sort of toy you can imagine. Books out the ass. Art supplies to rival most craft store inventories. And yet, this allegedly bright child of mine chooses to take a box of fucking baby powder to dust all over the hardwood upstairs hallway, which in turn scattered down the wooden stairs and all over the wooden foyer.

Have you ever dreamed of having a lovely blue-eyed, blonde haired child of your own? I can have her ready to go by 7:00 tonight. No need to call, I'll have her sitting on the curb. First come, first served and NO RETURNS.