Hello my name is Rachelle and I'm an addict.

If they had a support group for this....I would stand up and say, "Hello. My name is Rachelle, and I'm an addict." No I'm not addicted to chocolate, nor to alcohol. Some would say I'm addicted to Facebook...but I'm really not. I can go days without logging on if I'm not around a computer and I don't break into sweats and salivate at the mouth. People... I'm here to share with you that I'm addicted to my Black & Decker Dust Buster. There is a show on TLC that I watched the other day and one lady was addicted to sleeping with her blow dryer. Seriously folks, she would turn it on low and cuddle up next to it in bed and this has been going on for 23 years. Now I'm not to that extreme...yet! I think I have a mild case of OCD because I NEED to have organization and order in my house at all times or else I go all nutso on everybody. I cannot walk past the beds without smoothing the comforter. I cannot walk past the rocking chair without fluffing the cushion. I cannot walk past the bathroom with out peeking in and straightening the hand towel on the rack. I really wish that sometimes I could just relax and not give a shit about it. There are many days that I do just that and end up going to the extreme of not cleaning anything and it may last for a day or two. Dishes pile up in the sick and the counter top, the kids toys from the playroom are scattered throughout the house, 3-4 laundry baskets are overflowing with clean clothes that need to be folded and put away. I will admit that when these days occur...I am smack into the middle of a fabulous book that I cannot tear myself away from, therefore all things in life get neglected until I turn the final page! I am trying to give my 2 older children some chores throughout the week to help with the housekeeping but I'm so anal retentive that I end up remaking their beds or refolding the clothes. I complain to Shaw all the time that I NEED a bigger house. We are all on top of one another in this house and I know I would like my family a whole lot more if we had more room to spread out. But a bigger house would mean more cleaning and more anxiety attacks. Back to my faithful Dust Buster. If I could invent some type of holster to carry this thing around all day I'd be in heaven! I could whip it out and suck up the glitter Brooklyn leaves all over her bedroom floor from all her tee shirts. I could suck up all the leaves and acorns and sticks that Dallas tracks all over the house from his shoes. I could suck up the chips, cereal, bread crumbs, etc that Madden spills 24-7. I would be a blissfully happy woman. I wonder what kind of feelings that crazy lady gets from sleeping beside her blow dryer? Maybe I should snuggle up with my Dust Buster tonight. Hey...don't judge!