Spencer Pratt is going to be a rapper. SRSLY. And, I quote, "I'm the white Jay-Z in the game. I'm doing the baller thing. I'm more for the streets." Again, SRSLY. Uh, Spence, what "streets" are you familiar with? I'm pretty sure that Rodeo Drive doesn't count. Not that I'm all gangsta or anything, but your privileged white boy status isn't really helping your cause. Just sayin'. I guess if this fails, he can just go back to producing music videos for his wife. Success is in the stars for Speidi, is it not?
Had to get that off my chest. I'm sure it totally matters what I think.
Anyway, I spent all day cleaning. Mainly cleaning out and rearranging and de-clothing closets. You would not believe the amount of clothing that B and I own - yet, I never seem to have anything to wear. Strange.
Part of this task included removing all of the clothes that we no longer wear and somehow getting them down the stairs. My method for accomplishing this was me shoving all of the clothes (literally, thousands of clothes I think) to the edge of the stairs and then gracefully kicking them down until the heap was then at the bottom of the stairs instead of the top. Clever, eh?
My method of cleaning usually involves purging displaced stuff (i.e. clutter) from one room into another, ultimately amassing a collection of random objects in our kitchen that I must somehow get to the basement. The basement is our catch-all and has turned into a scary place. Not scary as in boo-ah!, but scary as in oh-my-goodness-you-may-not-see-the-floor-soon kind of scary.
It's practically begging me to have a yard sale. We have been in our house just two years, married three, and have managed to have a yard sale each year. Insane.
Alright, BFFs, have a great Saturday. And, if you coupon, go getcha a Sunday paper tomorrow because it's loaded!