Flylady and I have broken up. This time, for good.

I have been a faithful Flylady subscriber for about a year now and, at this point, I’ve just stopped listening to her. I don’t even bother pretending to read her emails. Scanning the “Oooh, someone else who looooooves Flylady” testimonials and feigning to care that 4 billion people think she’s the bees fly’s knees began to feel too much like work. I started to actually get a little resentful and I may have, on a few occasions, whispered under my breath that she was a self-absorbed, nagging witch that needs to get off my ass. It was all very unhealthy.

And what’s with the shoe thing? Seriously. Am I supposed to ignore the fact that I have hardwood floors? Not to mention the fact that there’s lead all over our ground outside thanks to some less than professional painters who decided, “Hey, we can totally power wash and scrape this lead painted house with 2 inches of protection!” that I actively do not want tracked into my house.

“But Flyyyylady says you can have INDOOR shoes,” you say.

What you’re saying is that I am supposed to come into my home and remove my outdoor (lace-up) shoes, only to put on another pair of (lace-up) shoes so I can walk to my bedroom and go to bed? That is sheer insanity, people. Sheer insanity.

I think that was the clincher, the shoe thing. I can put up with her being a self-absorbed, nagging witch little pushy, but I cannot abide by shoes in the house. For any reason. Our relationship was kind of like that of Miss Piggy and Kermit. It seems like a cute idea, but then you start discussing kids and it all goes careening downhill at an alarming rate. It’s a crime against nature.

So today I unsubscribed and, to celebrate, I got on my hands and knees with a prefold and a bucket, and scrubbed the wood floors in the dining room and hallway. Nothing says moving on like off-schedule, shiny, no shoes allowed wood floors.