It does not happen often, but hubby has gone to the Bay Area for the weekend and left me unsupervised.
So, what does a girl do with her own time? The possibilities are many. Without a man to feed and care for, she has time for other things. Like quilting. Gardening. Shopping (online because no shopping malls are up in the mountains.) She could read all day long. She could research her next book, watch chick flix, or take a nap.
Yesterday was day one of my unsupervised weekend. What did I do? I began Spring Cleaning. The master bedroom needed good dusting, so I started deep cleaning the furniture with Murphy’s Oil Soap. I still have Hubby’s dresser and the bookshelves to do. These will involve moving items around, dusting them, and scrubbing the furniture. I figure it is another half-day. Because my wrists and arms are sore today, I am moving on to using different muscles
This morning (day two), I got up early and worked outside washing my bay window and my French doors. The inside of the bay window involved heavy twisting, reaching, and climbing, which was another 30 minutes of hard labor. The living room windows were washed while lunch was cooking.
I learned something important that day. When the window glass is free of soot and grime, but you didn’t wash the window sills first, they really look hideous now.
Day three involved cleaning out drawers and cupboards in the kitchen that were overfull and haphazardly organized, so you could not find anything. When I removed all the contents, I found many interesting things, especially dirt, crumbs, and dust. It was exciting to not only see the bottom of the drawer but that it was clean. Bonus thrill – I got to toss user guides for items we no longer had.
You might think I need a life at this point. Four days unsupervised, and I am still slaving away cleaning. I hate a dirty house. Perhaps you should imagine a maid cleaning to a soundtrack of 80s and 90s rock. Most songs I dance and sing along with while working. This is how I multitask these days.
Hubby is no help. He tosses nothing out. He silently delegates this to me. At times, he will say out loud, as he is looking into the fridge, “This item-x should probably get tossed,” or “There is an unknown substance in the back of the bottom shelf.” Dare I think that he was taking care of it?
Two days later I see item-x still rotting away in there. This blows my mind in ways that I can’t explain. Why tell me? Why not throw it away? Who elected me the queen of the trash? This could explain why our kitchen trash and recycle cans overflow until I empty them. People (i.e., visiting adult children) will pile up trash and recycle items on the kitchen counters if the inside receptacles are full.
Who raised these people? Did their roommates teach them this? I vaguely remember when they were teens living at home, telling them I could not wait until they had homes of their own so I could come to visit and not clean up after myself and treat the furniture badly.
They must have believed me.
Jodi Lea's Place 