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Windex The New Spit-Polish

I swear. I have house-cleaning issues.
I guess maybe they are created for something to talk about briefly, when the girl's first get together for coffee.
You kind of have to create little stories for that.

My house was almost beautiful three weeks a go. And I had just got a new washer and dryer. That I have to say-I was thrilled with for two whole days.
Nothing really out of the normal was going on in my household. Same people dropping by. Same experiments in my sink.
Somewhere along the way, I decided I did not have to do as much cleaning. The basics would be good enough. And if one of those got skipped on one night, I could make it up the next.
Two weeks a go, I do not want to admit what I decided-but there was no rationalization. I stopped cleaning. I pretty much ordered my employee to do the basics. She did.
She also decided to clean spills with my best towels and eat all my chocolate.
But it was worth it. I was sitting on my ass.
I seemed to not notice when my babysitter apparently just started spending her days creating conspiracies against me and stopped cleaning.
One week ago, I looked at my house and sighed.
Six Days ago, I looked at my house and wrinkled my nose.
Five Days ago, I wasn't looking at my house. There were better things to look at.
Four Days ago, I thought oh no.
Where did that laundry pile come from?
Okay, where did all those laundry piles come from?
Little timed bombs waiting to go off in corners.
I was not sure why so much stuff was in closets where it should not be.
And my floors really needed a washing.
I only have a few days to pull this off. My kids will be leaving on Day Two, I thought.
The house must be clean before they go. Who wants to start two weeks minus brats messy?
I got pretty miserable for the next few days. If I am found dead; Cindy did it.
It could almost be claimed as justifiable.
Day Two came, I still had a bit too much laundry, but there was only a few dishes in my sink and only my floors left to do. I did that.
Twenty minutes before my children were due to leave, I closed their bedroom doors and refused them access.
I flopped on my couch after they were gone like I had just put in a life-sentence.
My house was pretty dang clean.
That night I kicked a book under the couch and refused to wash the flower vase I put in the sink.
A house has got to look lived in.


Juner said…
(Sigh) I can understand oh-too-well. The laundry reproduces itself overnight, I swear.
Queenie said…
More than one type of gremlin can be blamed for this.


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