After days of angst and apprehension over the condition of my house, I finally crossed the threshold yesterday after a fab road trip (details can soon be found on Brilliant Monster), prepared for piles of sand, honey everywhere, mirrors and windows marred by yogurty hand prints (no, my kids are pre-teen, but an OCD mind 1,000 miles away knows no bound in its worry), couch cushions all about, mail and papers on every surface, unmade beds, okay I have to stop, I'm pushing a heart attack. To my delight, and in retrospect, not surprise, I was delighted with the over all state of things. Obviously, I noticed every little thing, but at least there weren't bikes in the house or god forbid, the dreaded FORT!
Some homecoming images:
Not too bad!
BAD! What is Todd's obsession with making literally every surface his office space?
Why must computer desks = landfills for chrissake? Ugh:
You know, not my favourite way to be greeted but at least I know they're listening, as all the dishes are on the left. I cannot stand dishes in the sink, even for a nanosecond, but I understand that in human terms, this ain't bad:
This was the worst, hands down. End tables are for Kleenex boxes, remotes, and Carmela's lip balm. Period. This...someone call 911. Crafts + errant Kleenex + Silly Putty + empty glass of soda + state capital flash cards mixed with multiplication flash cards omg omg omg:
Hooray for one basket of laundry. I checked and the clothes weren't even wrinkly yet:
I've posted what these pillows ought to look like. This ain't it. Granted, they weren't on the floor, but...well that's all, they weren't on the floor:
Uh...this defies explanation. Quick, grab my detective badge. A bowl of Dum Dum suckers, possibly doubling as centerpiece, a bag of wrappers, with which to sew a quilt? Scratchy. And lastly, one half-sucked Dum Dum, preserved carefully because you know, they're so expensive. Bag of wrappers? Really Reilly?
It's a shoe rack guys, not an altar. The shoes go on it, I promise:
For the record, there is a wastebasket like two feet away. Clutter on end tables, clutter on end tables, the sky is falling!
Not for nothing, but there's a bag under this sink with 9837395 more bottles of soap, and also, thanks for using all mine, instead of one of the other six in the house. No seriously, I don't care about that (I bought more in S.F.), but like, when something runs out, re-stock it?
My dresser as a catch-all and my jeans possibly having gone through the dryer, FOR.THE.LOSE:
A mattress that appears to have taken up residence in the master bedroom, where Todd and the kids resumed co-sleeping while I was away. Okay I know that's sweet but it's hell of ugly and he will leave it there forever...and make office space out of it. this is not hyperbole. Plus it totally smacks of a fort:
Clearly my darling son and daughter shared in my fervor to straighten things out, for this is how I found them:
Comfy guys? Anyone need some tea?
Truth be told, I was pretty impressed. I mean, my kids are fairly tidy by nature, but without me breathing down everyone's neck things can certainly get slack. I'm very pleased that Todd stayed on top of things, though he confessed that he did most of the work because he "didn't know what to write on their chore lists." This is not a blog about disgruntled parents nor why Y-chromosomes so often fuck up something perfectly logical and/or obvious. "Well, you look around and see what needs to be done and then it split it onto two lists, one for each of our two children, no?" This man, a genius by all rights, asked me to please write it out. I don't know whether to laugh or cry about that.
So I don't know if this series of woes inspired or alarmed you, but hopefully it gave you some idea of what you might work on today, for my fingers are too sore from using this Flintstone keyboard on this bass-ackwards Mac to print a list.
Okay I've aired my dirty laundry, plus I'm wearing a Snuggie. I told a friend I'd help clean today so off I go...