I Blame Mom

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February 10, 2008 at 11:39 pm

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Yes, I blame my Mom.

(wall-to-wall cleaning and closet diving, that is.)

Justin knows me too well, so when he told me Grandma & Grandpa M. were back from Dallas and would like to see Sara, he cautioned me, “Don’t do too much… R-E-L-A-X!” as he headed out the door with her.

Well, I like to think I/we keep the house presentable, but with three shedding, puking, litter-tracking machines wonderful cats, one toddler and two sometimes very clumsy adults, things get a little… crazy… around here.

I would have been fine if I hadn’t thought to peer under our King size bed in our master bedroom, “Holy $h()1! There’s two whole other cats under there, plastered to the carpet!” All of the fur was grey.

Why, oh why, oh WHY, did I fall in love with that long-haired furball on our 4th or 5th anniversary? She sheds more than !

So, once you get a glimpse of something like that, it icks you out and you think, “Fine, I’ll just move the bed, vacuum under there, and be done with it. Easy. Quick.”

Yeah, you can guess it didn’t go quite that way.

Somehow, removing the Alpaca cat fur from underneath our bed morphed into:

· Vacuuming the entire house (upstairs & downstairs), including the stairs and all the baseboards (handheld hose attachment = sore knees and back.) OK, I’m lying, I didn’t touch our computer room/office. That would take a day, alone, to wrangle into submission. I hate, hate, hate carpet… sigh!

· Cleaning the ceiling fans, I nearly got electrocuted, or at least nearly set the house on fire… seriously, I discovered why our downstairs ceiling fan doesn’t work — I thought it was turned off, and as I cleaned its blades with my extension wand, it started spinning up… started going really fast, then I got major feedback over our stereo speakers (weird, I know–they were off, at the time) at the same moment a bright FLASH came out of the motor housing of the fan. We have a short circuit!

No damage, beyond my nerves and an already undoubtedly dead/dying ceiling fan. Ah, the smell of ozone indoors… (ick!)

· Moving Sara’s now-outgrown (denial: how did this happen?) changing table out of her room and downstairs to await a Goodwill drop-off. This of course meant finding homes for all the diapers and diapering accoutrements, stuffed animals and whatnot that lived on its three shelves and hung off it in a now-useless changing table storage caddy. At which point I had a gaping hole in her room to fill, so I started tackling her closet… it tackled back, but I’ve made some progress. I need a storage bin system for her so lots of her toys are within reach. I also need to further toddler-proof her room, now that she wants to pull up on things like her dresser.

· Cleaning Sara’s closet just means more crap for our master bedroom closet, which is the staging area where all of her outgrown clothing winds up after I wash it and pack it away. If I had time, I’d have sold several batches of it on eBay already, but I suspect my lack of time is going to turn much of it into Goodwill or women’s shelter donations (which is terrific, just doesn’t provide any spending money.)

· Somewhere in there I managed to do a couple loads of laundry (though none of it got put away, mind you;) do a quick strike cleaning of the interior of my Ford Escape Hybrid (well, not so much cleaning as restaging it for toddler-transport;) etc.

It all just wears me out just typing it, and yet on “paper” it doesn’t look like that much. Maybe it’s the pace I did it at — just the several hours Justin and Sara were over at his folks’ place?

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1 Comment

February 11, 2008

@

Oh my!

Beware “cleaning urges” – they can be positively dangerous to your physical (and mental) well-being!!

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