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HOT MESS WELCOME

It’s safe to say that the Johnson house has never been such a hot mess. I’m talking 6 piles of laundry; some clean and some soaking wet with a combination of sweat from dear husband’s noontime run and the morning Bikram yoga class I taught. There’s at least 5 pounds of beach sand embedded into the hallway runner along with dried grass clippings and tuffs of dog hair. The fruit flies that have descended upon the bathroom trash can are treating the banana peel I threw away on Thursday like an object of art at Burning Man. The living room floor is a war zone of  ...