In which I swoon...

I have been hoarding my February issue of Martha Stewart Living, saving it for a quiet moment when I could savor each page of home perfection.

Tonight that moment of quiet occurred in the bathtub. I ran the water super hot, got in and cracked open the magazine. I had made it a few pages when I audibly swooned.

It was a linen closet, a truly magnificent linen closet.

1. I do not own a linen closet. I barely have any clothes closets, never mind an actual closet with shelves devoted for linens.

2. I cannot fold sheets. I am sheet folding illiterate. I wash the sheets and then kind of crumple them up and shove them into a box under my bed.

3. My kids sheets aren't even on the same floor as their beds.

My house is a linen closet failure. There are no neatly folded stacks of lavender scented, color coordinated sheets sitting upon clearly labeled shelves. I am coming to realize that I may die before I achieve this goal.

In other news, I finally realized why my house has smelled weird all day.

Good news: It was not a dead bird.

Bad news: Lily had taken some rinsed, but by no means washed tuna fish cans out of the recycling and had a game of three card monte going on in her room.

So, that's my day. Squalor, tuna smell and gambling. You?