Crazy talk

Wednesday  in the late evening  Mystie

You should have seen the house Monday. No, actually, you shouldn’t have. Let’s just say that Saturday Matt worked on the house and I ran errands — leaving the house before even clearing the breakfast dishes. Sunday afternoon, after making a few little dishes, we had a great time playing games with Stewarts. We left the house before I cleaned up any of my not-too-bad kitchen messes. But, while I had been concocting things, Matt completely shoveled out the Expedition, a task that should have been done weeks — nay, months! — ago. He began by piling it all in the living room. He then made a valiant effort to put things away in their proper places, but that simply is not his strong suit. Much of it was my stuff and I am the one who intuitively knows where things should go. I often can’t even tell you where something belongs, I just go put it there. I frequently can’t tell Matt where to find something, I have to walk straight to it myself. Matt will figure it out eventually by observation, but there is a logic to it that apparently is only subconsciously understood by myself. Anyway, he apologized for it, but we both knew that sorting, tossing, and closeting those items was my job. So, Monday, I tackled both a weekend-abused kitchen and a mountain of junk. Monday our property manager attempted to call me while I was refereeing an outdoor fracas and her message indicated that she had listed the house already and had someone who would like to see it before we were out. “Hm, maybe Wednesday while I am gone?” I thought. “No,” with a look around the house, “that would be bad.” Besides, she’d give me more notice than that, I’m sure. I never did get a hold of her, though.

Monday eve came and although the dinner was sub-par and the floor was in dire need of vacuuming, there was not a thing out of place in the living room and not a dish in the sink or a mess on the counter. Although the dishes were clean, the house was by no means clean; instead it had been returned to order. The living areas, that is.

Tuesday dawned and I decided that I’d get the necessary laundry done, but I really wanted to put some order in the laundry room and do a little actual cleaning around the house. Good thing. Around 2 in the afternoon our property manager called and asked if Wednesday would be fine for a showing. “I will be gone from 10-6, so that would be a pretty convenient day,” I replied confidently, “you can come through anytime.” Hang up. Look around. Oh goodness. I finished up the laundry area, which now looked pretty impressive in my own eyes. I did ordering and tidying work in the kitchen and dining room. I went around and cleared up the embarrassing corners of the house — except for the worst corner: my bathroom.

We use the master suite for an office here in this rental, but since the closets are small and there’s an extra bathroom there, I use the “master” walk-through closet and bathroom for myself. It’s nothing compared to how my room used to look when I was a girl, but it’s still pretty embarrassing. Clothes in piles in the closet and on the floor, hair everywhere, beauty and hair products strewn with liberality.

Yet, I didn’t touch it at all on Tuesday. I knew there was enough to do that I would have to get up early in the morning, and I knew that only having that room hanging over my head would get me up at 6. Under a time pressure it was only 30 minutes of concentrated work to get it spic and span, too.

And truly, that was the only thing that would have gotten me up, for we spent Tuesday evening and night (6:30-9:30) at Lowe’s, picking up, choosing, and ordering various and sundry items for the house. 3 hours and $900 later, with two amazing but tired boys, we went home, had a bedtime snack of cookies, and … no … cleaned the kitchen and shined the sink before going to bed.

Wednesday the mere thought of someone seeing my bathroom, much less the manager of the house who holds our deposit in her hands, did get me jumping out of bed at 6. I knew that even 6 was cutting it close and if it wasn’t done by the time the boys woke up (usually 7, but I was hoping they would sleep in), then there was little chance it would be done. It took 30 minutes and it was clean. The shoes were in the closet and not neatly lined up on the shoe rack, but there were no piles of clothes and the counters were clear and clean. It was a major accomplishment. I showered, dressed, did my hair, and even applied some make-up since it was a big out-and-about day. It was 7 and the boys were not yet awake! Woohoo! I made myself breakfast, cleaning it back up right away, and had just finished when Hans called.

Boys fed, dressed, read to (only because I had told them the day before that I would read to them before bed but had to break that promise since it was so late — and they had remembered). Dishwasher unloaded and loaded. Bedrooms quickly tidied. No dusting. Whole-house vacuuming. Whoo! Out the door.

Errands on Wednesday: set up the utilities, go to playgroup. Deposit two checks at the bank, drop off bags of clothes at a new thrift store for the pregnancy center. Go through the post office drive-up box to mail a rebate form, go to WinCo to purchase supplies for AHG class. Drop boys off at Mom’s, sit for a spell, run up to Michael’s for a few other supplies for the class. Back to Mom’s to pick up brothers and sister, and off to AHG/Cadets. My last-minute bird-feeder plans (it was a badge requirement, but it is apparently not the season for pinecones, so I had to improvise) were a mild success, pulled off by on-the-spot improvision by my co-leaders.

Back “home.” Visit with Mom. Home with my own boys. Matt’s back after a few errands of his own after work. Not a real dinner. Boys to bed.

One thing I must say, though, if you are still reading, is that it is amazingly wonderful to have the WHOLE house clean. It’s an incredible feeling to turn the corner and — oh! — the floor is vacuumed and there’s nothing on it! Wow. After it’s all over and I come home after a showing, I begin to think — maybe, just maybe — it’s worth it to have one’s house on display.

But that’s crazy talk.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 18th, 2007 at 10:31 pm and is filed under Charwoman, Lady of the House. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.