I spent 5 hours cleaning the first floor of my house this past Monday. No, I don’t clean my house like this every week. It’s just that I hadn’t cleaned my house since before Christmas. As you all know from this post — Manual Labor Was Invented by the Devil — I am not a fan. But it was getting pretty nasty in here so if I didn’t want a divorce, I figured I should probably do something about the dust monsters under the couch and the Christmas tree needles, well….everywhere.
You know that feeling when you have completed the task of scrubbing down your house? It feels really good. But if anyone comes in here and walks around on the floor or messes up the soap dish, you want to kill them.
Every Monday night I get together with some friends. I know. It’s great. I highly recommend it. I left at 7:30 and got home at around midnight. It was pretty late, so I went straight to bed. When I came downstairs to help the kid with breakfast the next morning, this is what greets me:
Let’s see…I was gone 4.5 hours. When I left, there were 2 people in this house and 0 items in the sink. There are now 2 plates, 2 bowls, 6 glasses/cups, 1 pot, 1 spoon, 2 forks, 2 knives, 1 measuring cup, 1 wooden spoon, 1 rubber spatula, 1 serving spoon, 1 strainer, 1 pan from the toaster oven and 1 sink strainer basket that has mac & cheese, tomato pieces and strawberries in it.
There is actually an allergy to dishwashing machines. Yup. I looked it up. Apparently it has struck 2 of the 3 people living here. Hmmm. I guess I shouldn’t complain. These DID make it into the sink. And that counts for something, right? RIGHT?