That Time I Had A Clean House For Twenty Minutes

Apparently, I have lost all ability to put words into sentences and form cohesive thoughts tonight.  Personally, I don’t think that this is really much different than any other night, but this evening I’ve done absolutely nothing but stare at the white computer screen that Word Press gives me to type on, while I mentally composed my grocery list.

(And don’t ask me why I’m even making any effort to put a grocery list together, because Hubs will tell you that I never actually go INTO the grocery store.)

(This is evidenced by the fact that we are down to our last four squirts of toothpaste IN THE ENTIRE HOUSE, and Hubs has no more uber-potent, makes-your-eyelashes-fall-out coffee cups for the Keurig.)

(Honestly, I don’t even know how Hubs and I managed to get together in the early ’90s.  It must’ve been the Peter Cetera ballad that he sang to me that made my heart flip out and cry, “Yes!  He’s THE ONE,” because it certainly wasn’t our similarities in food choices.  Hubs likes his coffee to be strong enough to kill a buffalo dead, while I prefer extra-hot, coffee-enhanced MILK.  Hubs likes hot sauces with names like FIRE IN THE HOLE and TOILET WRECKER, while I oftentimes think ketchup is a little bold and sassy, and LET’S TONE IT DOWN A SMIDGE, SHALL WE, GLADYS?)

(Also, Hubs knows things, like when an iPhone has flat-out burned its memory up with a tremendous amount of picture storage, while I simply beat on it with my index finger and wonder why my life is so difficult.)

Anyway.

Today was a simple day at home, but listen, y’all:

The housekeeper came.

The honest truth is that we can’t afford a housekeeper, because we really like to eat, and electricity is actually a high priority on our lists of things we need money for each  month, but I’ve decided that I can probably cut some Starbucks out, if it means that every other week this gal will come in, scrub my bathrooms until they sparkle like fairy wings and polish up my hardwood floors.  I’ve simply decided that there AIN’T NO PRICE TOO HIGH TO MAINTAIN A LITTLE TOUCH OF MAMA’S SANITY.

And today was one of the days that she came over, people.  By noon today, the toddler was napping in his bedroom, and I was sitting alone in a spotless house.

I had a hard time taking that all in, because it WAS LIKE CHRISTMAS!!!  But without the mess of wrapping paper in the living room!!

Of course, dinners just got downgraded to Top Ramen noodles with a side of air, but I think our higher sodium levels will be worth it, because did I happen to mention CLEAN HOUSE?  And it wasn’t like JUST THE KITCHEN COUNTERS WERE CLEAN.  No, ma’am.  It was THE ENTIRE HOUSE IS CLEAN, ALL AT ONCE.  EVERY SINGLE ROOM.  EVERY SINGLE FLOOR.  ALL THE TOILETS AND SINKS AND TUBS.  I pretty much wanted to hold my arms out wide and spin in huge circles to celebrate, but then I remembered MOTION SICKNESS, and the motion sickness is an enemy that I don’t deliberately poke with a stick.

After that, Thing 2 had his preschool screening this afternoon, because apparently that sort of thing starts a lot earlier these days, because LET’S SCREEN IN FEBRUARY FOR A SEPTEMBER START-UP.

I had to laugh, because one of the questions that the nice gal running the screening asked me was, “Can your child run more than ten feet without falling down?”

Um… my toddler can swipe something off his brother’s bedroom desk and be in Las Vegas three minutes later, just by running, with the contraband squeezed tightly in his hand.  And he’ll hardly be winded when he comes into the city of lights.

So yes.

Another question was, “Can your child climb five steps in a staircase on his own?”

Um… my two-year-old can climb the front of our side-by-side refrigerator like a monkey on gin shots.

So… I guess… Yes.

I think we nailed the screening, y’all.

And then we came back home, where everything still looked like polished diamonds.  I felt badly, but I had to inform my family, “I won’t be offended at all, if the three of you choose to get a room at the Holiday Inn tonight, so that YOU DON’T MAKE A MESS HERE!”

I was hoping to get my money’s worth out of that deep-cleaning for at least eight hours, but there are already footprints on the front of my stainless steel refrigerator.

I measured their height, and I think it’s about equal to that of five steps in an OSHA-approved staircase, so I’m pretty sure Thing 2’s got this whole business of preschool in the bag, come September.  Thank goodness he won’t be the awkward kid in the back of the classroom, eating Elmer’s Paste straight out of the pot with his bare hands.  We passed that screening with flying colors.

Y’all have a great weekend.

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