Making Hairy Buts Cry is More Fun than you Might Think

Have you ever had a moment (I know, there I go again with the Moment thing - only this time I'm talking about a moment in time not necessarily a Moment in time. Does that make sense? Um ... moving on.) where you walk into [a place], in this case it's my bedroom, and wonder how in the hell you let [that one thing that you always say you're going to do/take care of but never really get around too] get so out of hand, in this case it's the fact that I never clean, that you can feel the vein in your forehead start to throb a little?

No? Is that just me?

This is one of those days where I can hear my Sad Little Ghost screaming at me to get off of my butt and just do something about it.

And I think I may have figured out what was standing between me and my Sad Little Ghost all that time ... I think it's a Big, Ugly, Hairy But, BUHB for short (you can visualize that however you would like).

As I sit here, thinking about it, a whole bunch of Big, Ugly, Hairy Buts are rolling around in my head trying to block out my Sad Little Ghost and his wailing of "Clean your space! Free your mind! Put the vein in your forehead back where it belongs!".

• There's the "But I have to take the dogs to obedience classes tonight" BUHB
• There's the "But I need to spend time working on my budget tonight after obedience class" BUHB
• There's the "But if I put in a load of laundry before I leave for obedience class, it will sit there forever and then it will mildew/piss off another resident and prompt a passive aggressive note that will make me feel bad" BUHB
• There's the "But I won't have time to do my yoga tonight if I start this now" BUHB
  
• And there's the "But I need to blog about this more than I need to actually do something about this" BUHB (which is not only my personal favorite but also what is really happening right now ... sad)

Too bad my BUHB-es (that's the plural, you know) don't know that I still have another 45 minutes before I have to leave for obedience classes tonight, which should give me just enough time to walk the dogs (very quickly), fold the towels and sort the laundry so that when I get back and I do a load and do my yoga at the same time - gasp! shock! awe!

I have to say that I usually don't like to make people/things/figments of my imagination cry, but the vein in my forehead sure does relax a lot when it see my BUHB-es weeping like little babies.

To the folding!