I am failing in my housewifely duties. Magnificently.
This is my new friend, the Dust Bunny, that was just staring at me from across the room. Is it wrong that I'm starting to identify with the balls of hair and dust that are accumulating around me? Maybe it's a form of Stockhold Syndrome.
I find it interesting that I would rather photograph the mess than actually sweep it up. It probably reveals some sordid element of my personality that I would prefer to leave unexamined. Or maybe I'm just creating art? Yeah, that's it. My messy house as art.