Boy did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. The second I opened my eyes I was grouchy, even though I slept in past noon. That usually makes me happy on a wintery Saturday. The moment I woke up, I just thought to myself "Here we go, another Saturday of coffee and house cleaning." I was less than excited about that thought. As far as I know, I am not a 50 year old housewife who has to spend her weekends cleaning up after her bratty kids. But I sure feel as if I act the part some days.
"Brunch will make me feel better", I thought to myself. I then realized the oven wasn't working, and couldn't bake up the tater tots I was craving to go with my bacon and tomato sandwiches. The deep fryer, although I hate it, is another way to cook them, but it was out of oil. Brunch, was a bust. My sandwich was yummy, but I was still hungry.
Then I spilled coffee, got salt in my eye, dropped everything I tried to pick up, and stepped on some invisible sharp object in my bedroom. So, I started cleaning and doing laundry to take my mind off my troubles.
It's just been one of those days.
It is now three o'clock, and I'm starting to feel a bit better. I'm going to shower, and I may even get out of the house for a couple hours and do some shopping or something. I can always finish cleaning on Monday morning before my mommy comes to visit.
At least tomorrow is Grey Cup, and I get off work early, so I will be able to join The City in cheering on our Riders, and getting retardedly drunk.
Showing posts with label housekeeping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housekeeping. Show all posts
Nov 24, 2007
Sep 24, 2007
House of Pain Cleaning
I have been majorly slacking off in the housework/running errands department, since the snow melted and The Pub patio opened many moons ago. At times throughout the summer, I felt twangs of guilt over being so damned lazy, but they never lasted long, and were nothing that a beer or two couldn't cure. So on Friday, I sat down and made a long list of only a handfull of things I need to get done asap. I occasionally glanced at the list throughout the weekend, and whenever it looked back, I left the house.
However, this morning, I decided that today was the day to get things done. I have a day of sleeping in, and then drinking planned for tomorrow, and then it's back to work, so today had to be the day.
I was on a roll for awhile there. I washed the dishes, but let them air dry. I washed my bedding, because it smelled of sex and popcorn. I threw out basically everything in the fridge freezer, because it had been here since before I moved in.
I sat down to make phone calls, important calls that I should have made months ago, and then decided I didn't feel like socializing with the Honda dealership, my doctor, or the passport office. I rationalized that my phone was on the fritz, and with my luck, it would do its normal "crackle-fizz-screech" right in the middle of one of these important conversations anyways,and I would have to hang up, so I best call them once I purchase a new phone.
Once I stopped, the laziness took over faster than the speed of light.
I decided that cleaning the yard and the garage were chores much more suited to a Sunday afternoon, with a case of beer and some friends.
I don't have the money to get my four hundred photos developed that I took over the summer, so that'll have to wait too.
I will take the bottles to Sarcan and the bottle depot when I am really hard up for beer and gas money. If I took them in now, I'd be kicking myself later.
I stopped to check my Facebook messages, and learned that beers may be in order later, for us who don't get weekends. I decided that I needed to earn my pub time, if I chose to have it, and braced myself to clean the fridge. If I was going to put off everything else on the list, I figured I better complete the one thing on the list that was circled and surrounded by big stars and exclamation points.
Approximatly four seconds after I started this brutal task, I immediatly regretted it. I was disgusted with myself, and told myself so. After throwing out everything that was expired, indistinguishable, or older than time, the V-Man and I were left with many bottles of soya sauce, salad dressings,3 containers of margerine, a few other random condiments and dips, some tortilla shells and about 6 eggs.
Once all the expired food and whatnot was disposed of, I could see the real mess. Spilled soda pop, stray carrots, and mold. Yes, mold. We like to live dangerously here at the House of Pain. I thought of just taking the fridge out to the dumpster and leaving it there. I puked in my mouth a little bit. I thought of all the things that may have been near the mold, that I was so brazenly eating all this time. But I traversed on. I could do it. I could clean this. I'm big and tough, and I had faith in myself.
I bleached the shit out of the fridge. I scrubbed and scrubbed and made it look as good as new. And then I went to the bathroom and vomitted my face off. I wasn't as tough as I thought I was. But I had won. The grease and grime and mold had lost this battle, and I was victorious.
I had a cup of coffee, and looked at the list again. All of a sudden, none of it seemed all that important. My battle with the refridgerator was all I could handle for today. It took every bit of motivation out of me.
I am going to have a bath, put the clean bedding on my bed, and take a nap. All those other chores will just have to wait until the trauma from today has passed.
However, this morning, I decided that today was the day to get things done. I have a day of sleeping in, and then drinking planned for tomorrow, and then it's back to work, so today had to be the day.
I was on a roll for awhile there. I washed the dishes, but let them air dry. I washed my bedding, because it smelled of sex and popcorn. I threw out basically everything in the fridge freezer, because it had been here since before I moved in.
I sat down to make phone calls, important calls that I should have made months ago, and then decided I didn't feel like socializing with the Honda dealership, my doctor, or the passport office. I rationalized that my phone was on the fritz, and with my luck, it would do its normal "crackle-fizz-screech" right in the middle of one of these important conversations anyways,and I would have to hang up, so I best call them once I purchase a new phone.
Once I stopped, the laziness took over faster than the speed of light.
I decided that cleaning the yard and the garage were chores much more suited to a Sunday afternoon, with a case of beer and some friends.
I don't have the money to get my four hundred photos developed that I took over the summer, so that'll have to wait too.
I will take the bottles to Sarcan and the bottle depot when I am really hard up for beer and gas money. If I took them in now, I'd be kicking myself later.
I stopped to check my Facebook messages, and learned that beers may be in order later, for us who don't get weekends. I decided that I needed to earn my pub time, if I chose to have it, and braced myself to clean the fridge. If I was going to put off everything else on the list, I figured I better complete the one thing on the list that was circled and surrounded by big stars and exclamation points.
Approximatly four seconds after I started this brutal task, I immediatly regretted it. I was disgusted with myself, and told myself so. After throwing out everything that was expired, indistinguishable, or older than time, the V-Man and I were left with many bottles of soya sauce, salad dressings,3 containers of margerine, a few other random condiments and dips, some tortilla shells and about 6 eggs.
Once all the expired food and whatnot was disposed of, I could see the real mess. Spilled soda pop, stray carrots, and mold. Yes, mold. We like to live dangerously here at the House of Pain. I thought of just taking the fridge out to the dumpster and leaving it there. I puked in my mouth a little bit. I thought of all the things that may have been near the mold, that I was so brazenly eating all this time. But I traversed on. I could do it. I could clean this. I'm big and tough, and I had faith in myself.
I bleached the shit out of the fridge. I scrubbed and scrubbed and made it look as good as new. And then I went to the bathroom and vomitted my face off. I wasn't as tough as I thought I was. But I had won. The grease and grime and mold had lost this battle, and I was victorious.
I had a cup of coffee, and looked at the list again. All of a sudden, none of it seemed all that important. My battle with the refridgerator was all I could handle for today. It took every bit of motivation out of me.
I am going to have a bath, put the clean bedding on my bed, and take a nap. All those other chores will just have to wait until the trauma from today has passed.
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