You don't want to know...

My house is a disaster. I'm not talking about a piece of lint on the carpet in the hall or a basket of laundry that's screaming, "FOLD ME!" - - I am talking full-on disaster. And all I did was decide to take yesterday off doing anything heavily domestic so I could watch the Masters. Writing about it isn't cleaning it, and I need to clean it before Didgeridoo Boy wakes and begins to wreak havoc.

Watch. The moment I write that I'll be back tomorrow, and get up to start working, he will wake up and derail my plans. I can feel it.

Here we go: I'll be back tomorrow.