Skip to main content

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.

Comments

Anonymous said…
(Sigh) I can understand oh-too-well. The laundry reproduces itself overnight, I swear.
Monday, 28 June 2004 at 17:08:00 GMT-4
Queenie said…
More than one type of gremlin can be blamed for this.

Q
Monday, 28 June 2004 at 17:31:00 GMT-4
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...
17 comments
Read more

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...
22 comments
Read more

..What Are You Waiting For?

She had a real calm smile; it took its time creeping up into her eyes. And there she was looking up at me. She was sitting, right down there on the sidewalk, up against the wall of the bank. Her hand was wrapped around a red pen; buried into a magazine. And I was walking by her. Her eyes were brown. I did not smile back at her. One can never be too sure about anyone who is downtown. A few days later; it was grey and chilly, and I saw her again. With the same simple smile; this time growing into recognition. She stood just inside the entrance way of the video store, ducked, despite the fact she was barley five feet tall and the doorway was at least ten. Funny girl, I thought. Her smile passed by quickly, and then she bent her head down, to the inside of another magazine. She took a long, lipstick drag off a cigarette. "What are you doing?" she asked, when I was passing by her a day and a half later. And I stopped my step, for I was truly stumped. I looked down at my br...
11 comments
Read more