Writing takes a lot of time. So does laundry. And cooking. And cleaning.
I suppose I should toss in a couple of "real job" hours in there as well.
And Finding Things, Lost and Hidden. That takes a lot of time, too.
What I need is a laundry knight, a self-starter with a bright shining team to swoop in, and not only bring the dirty clothes down from their smelly spot in the hamper, but sort and wash them in my basement laundry dungeon-- the room unabashedly known as the thinktank of this Sparkly household. Hopefully, once done folding, mister fancypants will slip on those shiny *metallic is so hot right now* thigh high boots he's tucked into the laundry basket (see photo) and bring everything upstairs.
Until my chain mail'd dude in lather appears, or until my Badass Novel is finished, the piles reach epic proportions. I wonder if this has anything to do with my sudden yen to climb Mount McKinley. I'll bring my gear and scale the mess -- tomorrow. After I finish one more chapter.