Before and After

When I call myself a housewife, it should not be considered a reflection on actual housewives. I am, in fact, a disgrace to housewifery when it comes down to the nitty-gritty Donna Reed definition of the word. Timmy and his dad never had to wait for their dinner the way my husband did tonight because Mrs. Martin (was that her name?) forgot to put on the spuds. And when my husband returned from London today to an unmade bed piled to the ceiling with unironed and unfolded laundry, the first thing he chose to do was to say very sarcastically, "Oh, you've been cleaning!"

Actually, I have, smartass. You're welcome. I have been making small improvements.

Here is a before shot of our hallway:



And here it is today:



Oh yeah baby. This shoe rack was ridiculously expensive, by the way. I believe it was handmade in Tunisia by 12 vestal virgins from the skins of albino silkworms. But it was much needed--we don't have closets here, we have wardrobes, so there is no space for shoes at all.

Here is the state of our laundry before:



And today:



It's not much, but it feels good. I think I'll treat myself to a nice Hostess cupca---oh wait. Never mind. I