Monday, August 10, 2009
32 l-o-n-g years ago today, I was born, all clean, thank you very much, and my mom will tell you I was her easiest birth. You will smile, and then she will tell you that I was also her most difficult to raise, and how at birth, I immediately surveyed the room and looked askance at her, and then regale you with dozens of stories you will find charming and I will hate and deny.
For instance, our only source of contention when I was a teenager was cleanliness. We had giant house overlooking the ocean, which Mom kept plenty clean, and she loved agate hunting. After working like 17 jobs, she'd go scour Quail Beach and bring home her booty. But, she would put the sandy wet agates on my counter! Er, her counter, but still. OMG. I would get so incensed. I'd get mad if the carpeted staircase wasn't swept daily, if the 1,000 sq. ft. of wood flooring in the living room wasn't cleaned by hand with Murphy's Oil, basically all the same things that make me mad now, only I was a teenager, supposed to be out raising hell, and really had no business raging around my mom's house.
The classic story is this one:
One day while Mom was at work, I went on a cleaning rampage. I know, I know, you wish your teenager would rebel this way, but I was ridiculous, manic, angry about agates and clutter. Mom had this one section of counter top where her bills were sorted out. I sort of knew this but mostly it was just clutter so I stacked it all neatly and threw out old coupons and stuff. Later that night Mom was looking all around the kitchen, with escalating panic, trying to find her paycheck. I didn't take it, obviously. Finally she said, "Cheyenne, could you maybe have thrown it away when you cleaned?"
Indignant, "Um no, I'm 15, not two." Mom continued to look, becoming semi-frantic. Finally I snuck outside to the garbage cans just in cans just in case someone other than me had somehow gotten her check into the trash. Sure enough, there it was, wadded up tightly. "Shit." I had to go in and present this mutilated check, and what's worse, I had to be wrong. Mom was...glad to have her check and wondered aloud if I might have a disorder of some kind. Nail? Head?
I could go on with cleaning misadventures all day but the geriatric ward only allows us to use the computers for a limited time.
But I got new caddies (caddy's, caddeez) last night, I'm stoked!
Today I am going to:
Bask in the glory of having cleaned my entire house this weekend, and let my kids stay on top of the little things.
-Tackle those dishes early, wipe down kitchen, appliances, floors, counters, change hand towel, things that make you go "Ahhh..."
-Get that laundry started and swear you'll get it folded by _____o'clock.
-See if your bathroom is crying out for Ajax. I think it is. Sinks and toilets are nothing, tubs are harder. Sprinkle it in, then take a scrubby sponge with you into the shower and scrub then. It's so much easier.
-Toss bath mats (all mats, everything named Matt) into the washer and sweep/Swiff your bathroom floor(s).
-Vacuum your carpet.
-Spend five minutes on your entryway.
-Rid your living room of that which does not belong.
-Clean one surface.