Not a library stocked with tomes of information arranged by Dewey Decimal. Not a brand new box of crayons or complete deck of cards.
Full, like the boys' toy box. When they want something, they have to dig and throw half a dozen things out just to find it.
Full, like a washer so jam-packed with clothes that it barely swishes around.
Cluttered and overwhelmed to a point of non-funtion.
There is no major crisis or a huge project on the go and yet I anxietied myself into anaphylaxis last week. (Yeah, "anxietied" is a word. I think I just made it up... do you like it? It is available with or without quotes and in a limited, sarcastic edition.)
Bah, humbug. In the morning why don't I pop something into the crock pot, take the kids and just wander off for a while without doing dishes or laundry? A good laugh would do us all some good.