I'm Going In

KC's room can no longer be ignored. The mess behind the door calls my name and says, "Clean me before the kid comes home on Sunday. I won't tell if you throw some things out ..."

So I'm pulling on my gloves, arming myself with trash bags, turning on some music and going in with a brave face.

If you don't hear from me again before this evening is out, all I ask is that you call out the dogs and send a search party.