Sunday, November 23, 2014

Mr. Clean

Ok.  You know that house that I want in my backyard?  The one that NO ONE in my family will be allowed to enter....well, today, it NEEDS TO HAPPEN.

I'm not sure if it is because it's the weekend, and everyone is home (invading my space)...or if I just woke up crabby, but I feel the need to start Plan B (remember Plan B?...aka WINE) right now.  (It is 2:00 in the afternoon, by the way.)
Does anyone else have this problem:
When it comes to picking up around the husband is only capable of putting his own stuff away.  When it comes to everything else, he says he "doesn't know where it goes."
For instance, those groceries I bought 3 days ago...well, all of the canned/boxed/non-perishable goods are still piled on the counters.  (I have secretly been testing him.) Obviously...these things should go in the pantry.  (This is not a difficult test.)
Well....he isn't sure where these things should go.

There are several items that have been collecting along the banister by the stairs.  All things that need to make their way downstairs....only no one bothers to actually carry them down there.
Well....Mark's parents are coming to town today to watch the play the kids are in.
(This is the one time my husband gets motivated to clean.)
So...the pile has been moved downstairs.
Unfortunately...(since he "doesn't know where things go") this means every single thing he carried down there is now piled in a heap in my (once) perfectly organized storage room.
Just thinking about it makes me want to weep.
I know if I go down there and look, I will seriously lose it.  Like, have a full blown screaming, throwing myself on the ground temper tantrum.
It makes me that mad that this man who has lived with me for 19 YEARS still can't figure out where anything "goes."
And so, I will have the pleasure of re-organizing all of the crap that has now been tossed haphazardly into piles, making it impossible to even access anything that has been neatly stowed in that darn room (that I literally spend 6 hours organizing.)

It could be worse.
He could refuse to do anything at all.
Of course, if that were the case....he would no longer be living here.
He would be the one in the back yard.  Living in that damn ice shack that is currently taking up 1/4 of our garage.
I am guessing he actually wouldn't mind that arrangement.  As long as he had a beer fridge.
I will also admit that I am most likely part of the problem.
You know that temper tantrum I was talking about?
Although I can't bring one to mind...I am sure I have had one (or 20) in the past over things being put away in the wrong place.  I suppose that might scare a guy into putting things away at all?
At any rate, it never fails that in the end....if anything is going to get done...I will be the one to do it.  I can get help...if I either leave very detailed instructions...or am within earshot to answer the 345 questions that are bound to be asked. 
Sometimes it really is just easier to do it yourself.
It would be nice, however, if anyone who lived with you had any idea how much work it is to clean up after them!
Oh well.  I let go of my need for perfection years ago.
Why slave away day after day if no one who lives here cares, or even notices....but more importantly...if they don't pitch in and help.
I will let my daughter live in a bedroom that would be completely appropriate for an episode of Hoarders.  Maybe someday she will realize that it would be much more peaceful, and conducive to a good night's sleep if she created a clean, calm environment in her room.
I don't know....maybe she finds risking her life walking through an ocean of clothes (and God knows what else) to even get to her bed invigorating.  I'm certainly not stepping foot in there.
Speaking of son has this awesome room with windows that go down to the floor.  
He came out of his room this morning and said "A huge, furry demon just ran past my window!!  It's HUGE!  Bigger than Riley!" (our chihuahua)
Mark went out to investigate. By the time he got out there...the "demon" had fallen in the window well outside Lexie's we had a great view.
The furry beast had found a dead mouse, and was eating it like a carrot for breakfast.

Not exactly the "huge demon" Sam described.  He was actually pretty cute (except for that gross rat tail.)

Here he is through the screen.  We thought Lexie would freak out, considering this was her view right beside her bed.  (It's not everyday you wake up to a mouse eating possum!) However, she thought he was adorable and suggested we get a little harness and sweater for him.
We passed on that idea.
I suppose I should go put away all of those "things" that no one else knows what to do with.  I have been getting looks of disdain while I sit at the computer and someone (who's name shall not be mentioned) has been cleaning.
I think it's quite beautiful.

Too bad he is so cranky.
Men can be slow learners.

Have a lovely day!

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