Saturday, July 11, 2009
Stick With it Saturday
I refuse to succumb to paranoid delusions of mass rebellion, of each of you with heaps of tipping dishes, crumbs on the floor, hand prints on the windows, dishes in the living room, and pasta sauce boiled onto the stove top. No, I will not envision it! You're just too busy to check in, that is totally reasonable. Perchance some of you are even too busy to clean, which is only okay if you're Sam or moving or in active labour.
So where oh where have my Moxlings gone? I've noticed a few blogs lately wherein people are reporting their progress there, which is cool. I just want to know what is the most helpful to those of you seeking motivating on Moxieclean. Seriously, that's all. I just want to tear the scary mask off cleaning and assure you guys, each day, that you can kick its ass.
Yesterday was nuts. My daughter was gone and my son was feeling ragged enough to warrant tv in the daytime (typically forbidden) so I scrawled out a furious list and went at it, catching spontaneous things as I went. On top of my scheduled tasks, I made cleaning compilations for a few friends, a bracelet for another friend's baby, wiped the lower computer speakers, the power strip, and all 8,000 cords that stream out of it, as well as the keyboard, organized games, washed throw rugs, and made good on my promise to catch up on laundry. OMG I also liberated the four sad, dusty three-tiered skirt hangers from some witness protection program in my closet, and wiped them off and actually consolidated my nine skirts (I have nine skirts?), leaving me with, you guessed it, NINE hangers! Man, what a coup. Now I just need a mint julep and a pedicure and I'm set.
Before we delve into manic Saturday, I will say that the dynamic of my Saturdays has shifted somewhat. I used to bust out two weeks' worth of cleaning in four hours because I had a standing date, and I could leave my home gleaming, with no guilt. As things go, sometimes people accidentally tell you they love you when they actually hate you, so you find out some other way, and you put an immediate stop to your Saturday nights. But don't cry for me Argentina, because I have other people with whom to spend Saturdays, I just don't have to be in quite as much of a hurry now because I'm not, you know, in love with them. Sometimes I even pick up slack or invent utterly useless tasks like arranging my pens in order of height (in a cup--yeah, it doesn't work) on Sundays. Regardless, I wake up every Saturday ready to pull some Kill Bill action on my house (minus getting shot in the head).
Sorry this turned into an actual blog. You're not reading anyway, so what the hell right? Thus far, the most effective agent in assisting the cleaning of others' homes is to text specific, timed orders, and to go over there and scrub, fold, whatever. I'm always up for getting down and dirty, and most of you have my number.
Here's my list:
There are 22 things on this list. Do ten.
Door number two is to have all 22 things done by Sunday night.
Let's make a deal!