Bedroom: Clean. Laura: Dirty!
I spent two and a half hours cleaning my bedroom today. I practically put myself into anaphylactic shock with all the dust I kicked up. Calvin's shoes were EVERYWHERE. Now they are in two places, neatly arranged. A metric ton (or thereabouts) of clutter and crap has been moved to The Storage Room Formerly Known As Marie's (five trips up and down the stairs). The laundry explosion has settled and everything is folded and hung up. I love my Dyson, and so does my carpet. I also love the Swiffer, though I went through three dusters in the course of my attack.
The speakers have been uncovered from the piles that surrounded them. The bed can be (and has been) made now that the footboard is no longer housing fifty pairs of jeans. Who needs as many pairs of jeans as we own, I ask you?
The water dragon is not adapting well to his new home, mostly because it is on cat-level and Oz delights in fucking with the lizard. Just that one. He doesn't mess with the beardies, and I think he's a little bit afraid of the snake. But the water dragon he taunts constantly. So, I put newspaper all along the outside of the tank. Oz has been thwarted, and is decidedly grumpy at me about it. You may ask how I can tell if he's grumpy, and how I can tell that said grumpiness is directed specifically at me:
1. Brodies that pinnacle up onto the (formerly) folded pile of laundry, thereby scattering said laundry to the floor.
2. A game of "Bite the toes from under the dust ruffle" as I walk around the bed while making it.
3. Glaring balefully at the newspaper-sided tank, then glaring equally balefully at me.
4. Refusing to get out of the (now empty) laundry basket so I can put it away.
5. Mrowing at me in a very disapproving way from under the (now overturned) laundry basket.
Perhaps I should address overhaul-type cleaning as a weekly goal that is focused on a single room. Then by the time the last room is clean, it will be time to start over again. God knows I'm looking for any kind of method or system to motivate myself with, here. This house is a disaster.
But! My room is clean.
The speakers have been uncovered from the piles that surrounded them. The bed can be (and has been) made now that the footboard is no longer housing fifty pairs of jeans. Who needs as many pairs of jeans as we own, I ask you?
The water dragon is not adapting well to his new home, mostly because it is on cat-level and Oz delights in fucking with the lizard. Just that one. He doesn't mess with the beardies, and I think he's a little bit afraid of the snake. But the water dragon he taunts constantly. So, I put newspaper all along the outside of the tank. Oz has been thwarted, and is decidedly grumpy at me about it. You may ask how I can tell if he's grumpy, and how I can tell that said grumpiness is directed specifically at me:
1. Brodies that pinnacle up onto the (formerly) folded pile of laundry, thereby scattering said laundry to the floor.
2. A game of "Bite the toes from under the dust ruffle" as I walk around the bed while making it.
3. Glaring balefully at the newspaper-sided tank, then glaring equally balefully at me.
4. Refusing to get out of the (now empty) laundry basket so I can put it away.
5. Mrowing at me in a very disapproving way from under the (now overturned) laundry basket.
Perhaps I should address overhaul-type cleaning as a weekly goal that is focused on a single room. Then by the time the last room is clean, it will be time to start over again. God knows I'm looking for any kind of method or system to motivate myself with, here. This house is a disaster.
But! My room is clean.
Did you misplace the phone whilst you were putting things where they belong? Hmm? I actually called the HOUSE PHONE this time and you don't answer that one either! ;)
Posted by
Heather |
3:51 PM