Mrs. Chili spent this afternoon cleaning.
The clutter had reached a critical stage – that point where it begins to take on a life of its own and can no longer be ignored (and there are no more places to put MORE clutter..). Observe:
You know.. looking at that picture, it really doesn’t look all THAT bad, but trust me, it was.
I started in one corner and worked my way around the kitchen, then moved into the downstairs bathroom, then the great room, then the dining room/library (I can’t help it, I still LOVE that I have a LIBRARY!), and finally the family room. The vacuum cleaner, the mop, and the duster were all put to concentrated use after things were put back where they belong (or, in many cases, pitched altogether). The house is, for the most part, put back together to my satisfaction:
What I discovered, though – well, not so much discovered as had confirmed for me – is that every single horizontal surface in my home is covered with a fine, green-grey dust, courtesy of the neighborhood trees. The pollen around here is really surreal; life has taken on an odd, greenish tinge as of late, and I’m on my knees to the Universe, thankful that I don’t suffer from pollen allergies because, really? We’re breathing more pollen than we are air right now.
I took a picture of my dust rag to show you my handprint in green, but the photo didn’t really do the phenomenon justice, so I went out and took a couple of pictures of the Puck. What I REALLY wanted was to show you the kitty prints in green on my hood, but I couldn’t get a clear shot of them, either; all I got was the reflection of the garage ceiling. Instead, you get to see what is supposed to be my black car as it looks every spring.
That’s a handprint on the door jamb in pollen. Really. If anyone ever needed my fingerprints, they could just lift them off of the car…
The trees are having sex right there in the air. It’s a disgrace. If you leave your car outside right now, you have to use the windsheild wipers to clear away the pollen before you can drive. It’s amazing.
Pretty kitchen.
Meno, I leave my car in the GARAGE and I have to use the windshield wipers before I can drive. It’s horrifying.
Thanks for the kitchen compliment. Go back in my archives about a year or so and see what I had to go through to GET it….
Wow! Can you teach Cookiemaker how to clean like that?
No, but I could probably teach YOU! (pig!)
Kitchen looks great. Just a quick favor. Can you pretty please not put anything combustable on the surface of the stove? Dear GOD, WOMAN. I’ve had an eye twitch since looking at it
Thank you.
Ah, cleaning. Our manner of living is such that we could usually show the house for sale or entertain Emily Post with about 5 minutes notice. Clutter is anathema, dirt is banned. We’re not anal about it, but we both like it spiffy.
Now, I admit that once a week we employ assistance in cleaning. She’s been a no-show for two weeks now due to some unspecified back complaint. Actually, she started doing a pretty slovenly job, and when asked specifically to give better attention to certain things, I think she just decided to bag it. I don’t suppose we’ll ever see her again. Nobody yelled, took a mean tone, or otherwise. Some people do not like taking direction, even from those paying them.
As for pollen, I expect to see the window screens at our Cape house completely clogged with the stuff when we get there.
I’m thinking you’re misunderstanding where I’m coming from, Mrs. C. I by no means expect only the woman of the house to clean it up. Keeping a clean, healthy, sanitary, and respectable-looking home is absolutely the job of BOTH the man and the woman of the house (and when Little Man gets older, he will join us in doing that job).
My crack was a shot at Cookiemaker’s apparent inability to straighten up after herself. Granted, she cleans the kitchen and the bathroom so thoroughly I could eat a meal off the toilet seat AFTER taking a dump! However, the idea of putting something back where it belongs after using it seems to be a foriegn concept to her, so it constantly falls to me to do it.
And the crack was also – at least partially – a joke.
Jeez, Falcon! Learn how to take a joke, wouldja? I KNOW you. I KNOW you wouldn’t make a crack like that and believe it (hence the “pig” remark from me). Holy cow, fella – lighten up already!
The clutter is what drives me insane. What amazes me is how quickly it accumulates, and how frustrating it is to have a zillion little things that you can’t throw out but which don’t have a “home.” Grrr!
Just wait until LittleMan starts being old enough to be responsible for the care and keeping of his things, but doesn’t. It’s infuriating that I can spend a significant amount of my day cleaning up and ten minutes after the girls get home you wouldn’t be able to tell….
I was relatively certain you were joking, but I’ve had too many of those fish come back at me (
)to take it for granted.
What makes the clutter infuriating to me is that it’s Cookiemaker who makes it! I think Little Man’s already neater than she is!
Oh, God! I am almost at WITS’ END with my frickin’ kids! Seriously. They come in, and it’s as if they just explode; I find papers in the middle of the floor, pencils under the table, coats in the hallway…. GRRRR!
Welcome to my world…