My kind of girl (or, a little note to the OG)

I've recently discovered the secret to a clean house.  Her name is Ramona.  Oh, Ramona, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...

Seriously, how did I survive before Ramona?  And how did anyone put up with me?  Before Ramona, I basically did all of my housework on Saturday nornings, right up until the doors to the Hot Mess sports bar opened (or until the SS Hot Mess shoved off from  shore, depending on the season).  I'm sure I was one cranky mama, spending a quarter of every weekend fighting back the dust bunnies and wiping up potty training mishaps.  Definitely not the most fun way to spend my time.

Now, Ramona fights the good fight, and I enjoy the spoils of victory in the Great Dust Bunny War.  An excellent arrangement!

If you don't have a Ramona in your life, get one.  Now.  But you might have to find your own Ramona, unless you're Mrs. MD13 or Will's Mom.  If anyone steals my Ramona from me, I'm likely to get violent.

Anyhoo, I was reminded of my Ramona-love a minute ago when I stumbled across a prefectly sensible, logical, probably even brilliant little note about housecleaning.  If there was no Ramona in my life, this might be my new mantra:

God meant for dirt to be on the floor, that’s why He gave us gravity. If we didn’t have gravity, all the dirt and stuff would float around and get in your way.

So, if you sweep and mop and clear away the dirt, you’re messing with God’s master plan, and that’s just rude. And may be dangerous, if your God is a vengeful God!

Don’t be rude to God!

Can't argue with that logic, can you OG?  Take the plunge.  Call Ramona.