First off, for those of you reading via RSS, I apologize for the weird things that are happening with my feed these last few days. HELLO, PEOPLE READING AT BITACLE.ORG! SAY HELLO TO THE NICE BITACLE PEOPLE AND BE SURE TO THANK THEM FOR STEALING MY CONTENT LIKE THE BOTTOM-FEEDERS THEY ARE! THEN GO VISIT STOPBITACLE.ORG! SMOOCHES!
So, yeah. I am still trying to figure out what to do about this. I had changed to full feed so that I could have a copyright notice appended to my posts, but then I thought “Why am I giving these asshats my entire posts when I could, at the least, limit them to just the first few sentences?” I’m back to summary feeds, at least for now.
Anyway. So there’s that.
In the meantime, the housekeeping of the non-blog variety continues apace. Remember my elation at cleaning out my closet? It was so exciting, I continued on to cleaning up piles of junk in the kitchen, if you recall. (Of course you recall. You have nothing better to do than to keep track of my cleaning habits. That’s not creepy in the slightest.) The excitement of getting rid of stuff was intoxicating, and I couldn’t wait to have the entire house tidied up.
Well, I’m thinking I should maybe aim a bit more realistically in the future. Like, maybe I could set my sights on a Pulitzer, rather than on getting the entire house clean.
I dunno, maybe it would be doable if I lived alone. This is not to say that I never make a mess, just that I—unlike some people who live here—am capable of some basic maintenance when it comes to keeping clean areas clean. I do not, for example, leave a trail of papers and crayons behind me that spans three rooms. I hardly ever pull twenty books off the shelf to read at once and then leave them in a pile on the floor when something shiny distracts me. It’s very rare that I will have a snack, leaving crumbs all over the table and floor and a mysterious puddle near a pile of napkins. (“Well I wiped up the part that was touching me” is a good excuse to use in that situation, though.)
No matter what atrocities they leave behind them, I cannot blame all of the squalor on the children. They make it more challenging, to be sure. But today I noticed a huge contribution on my part.
Today was the day I decided I was going to dig out the mudroom. The mudroom is a very useful room to have, particularly in a climate like this; it gives you a place to enter the house and shuck your snowy (or muddy) clothing before continuing on into the living area of the house. My mudroom is actually part of an addition we put on the house shortly after buying it, which means that I got to design the space. And it’s everything I could want in a mudroom. I have the laundry in there (tucked away in a closet). I have a coat closet. I have a nice bench with storage inside and space for shoes underneath. The kids have cubbies and pegs for hanging their coats. It’s perfect.
It’s also Ground Zero of crap repository. Anything that gets carried into the house gets dropped in the mudroom. As a result, it’s been several years since the floor in there has seen the light of day, save for the two narrow corridors from the doors (the front door, and the garage door) to the doorway into the kitchen. No one has been able to sit on the bench for nearly as long; it’s covered in junk. And the large pile of stuff outside the coat closet is there, I think, because the closet itself is full. Of crap.
So I spent a couple of hours digging it all out. The mudroom is now clean and pristine; the bench is cleared off; the closet is emptied and organized; trash has been removed and too-small items bagged up for donation. All good, right?
Well, there’s just one little problem.
In cleaning out the mudroom, I gathered up a big pile of books and left them on the floor in the family room. I found various cups and bowls and boxes of snack items which I left in a pile on the kitchen counter. All three of us now have piles of shoes in our rooms to be put away (because I’m pretty sure we don’t need to keep every shoe in the house under the bench, despite our best efforts). Both kids have sweatshirts I found in there now sitting on the ends of their beds to be folded and put away. One big bag of stuff went down to the basement storeroom to be dealt with later. And I have a new stack of papers on my desk, rescued from the morass formerly on the bench.
In other words, the mudroom is spotless, but now every other room in my house is a mess again.
Next thing you know, I’ll just give up and clean out my car. Which likely means carrying a load of stuff into… the mudroom.
My life is so difficult.