Tag Archives: cleaning

Safety First

Husband: Don’t go outside, there’s a big copperhead on the porch.

Me: I’ve got a big stick.

Him: No wonder the house is such a mess.

Me: ?

Him: That’s a broom.

So there was this giant snake on our porch, and by giant I mean a normal-sized snake, but it was venomous and it crept right up behind the husband. We are a little freaked out, especially since we don’t know where it is now.

Then this morning some shit happened and I ended up having to walk down the dirt road to get home, about a mile or so, and somehow I ended up with a pen in my hand. No idea.

Please disregard my hair.

Please disregard my hair.

But I was a little lot nervous about the snake and of course bears and coyotes and stuff so I was glad I had the pen. Because I’d just write them a polite note and ask them not to kill me, please. Or give them an autograph right in the eyeball. I don’t know. But it made me feel a bit better.

Now I’m home safe and sound and I’ve got the doors locked so the snake can’t get in. Because we all know how well that works.

 


How Low Can You Go (Before Your Husband Hires a Maid)

 

Pretty fucking low, it seems.

Before I had my third child I was somewhat anal took housecleaning very seriously. After Thing 3 was born and I went back to working fulltime, I realized that either I was going to have to lower my standards or I was going to go insane.

But I’m an overachiever, so I did both.

Somewhere along the line, I signed up for emails from The Organised Housewife.  Originally, I suppose I wanted to get these daily reminders to help me stay on top of shit.  Now I use them to make me laugh.  Like, ha-ha, motherfucker, no.

Everyday I get an email from them and they seem insanely helpful, if I cared anymore.  But I am so far past caring that sometimes when I read an email that says, “pick one cabinet and organize it” I just want to go and throw all the things all around until there isn’t even a cabinet.

Yes.  I believe I did mention that I’m also on the crazy train.

I’ve always been a list maker.  When my husband worked fulltime and I stayed at home with the kids, I would make lists so that he could see what all I’d accomplished that day and he would know that even though I was still in the same 3 day old pajamas he left me in, I HAD BEEN DOING STUFF.  Important stuff, like sanitizing the microwave.  I’m not even totally sure where my microwave is located at this moment.  My how things have changed.

Anyway, I still make lists, but instead of long lists of things I want to accomplish in a day, I make lists of things I’ve already done. Here are some sample lists from my ever-present notebook:

1. Get out of bed.

2. Write.

3. Eat.

4. Feed cats.

5. Read internet.

6. Maybe do some laundry. Just wash.

7. Maybe dry the laundry you might’ve washed.

8. Throw clean laundry in a pile.

Notice the list doesn’t say “feed children.” Because even I remember that without writing it down.  Because they constantly ask for food.  All day, every day.

Here’s one titled “Things I am Currently Not Fucking Up”

1. Taking me time.

2. Writing.

3. Kids.

4. Marriage.

another list, titled “Things I am Currently Fucking Up”

1. Everything else.

I’ve been doing really good at writing things on my list that are easy, so I can look at my list at the end of the day and know that I’ve been productive.  It’s really easy to be productive when you use this system.  Shit, I may as well start my own email reminder.

“Good morning, fellow lazy asses. Today’s chore is to add a banana to your ice cream. Yes, I said a goddamned banana split. We CAN DO THIS!”

Or

“Good morning, sweethearts. Today we’re all going to take a moment to remember how awesome we are.  This moment will last approximately 2 hours and is otherwise known as a nap. Enjoy.”

I could really get into this.  I’m like a damned guru.  I will teach you ALL THE THINGS!

So, are you a list-maker? Is your house spotless or spotty? Would you call yourself organized?  Does it bother you that organized is spelled with a Z and an S within this post? 

 

 

 


Conversation regarding blogging, drug use, and the importance of a good alias.

Initially I had decided not to tell my husband I was starting a blog.  But since we have an open relationship (not that kind of open, ohmygod) I decided I had to.  Also, since I’m going to be talking (shit) about him frequently I guess it’s only fair.
Gus:  A blog?  Cool.
Me:  Yeah, I thought I should tell you because some things are going to change around here.   I’m not going to have time for a lot of things.  Like cleaning the house and my real job.
Gus:  We’ll hire someone.  (He’s so supportive.)
Me:  Also, I may have to start doing drugs.  You know, so my life is more interesting.
Gus:  You’re not going to use my name are you?
Me:  Yeah. But not your whole name.   Did you hear me say I’m going to have to get a habit?  For work.
Gus:  I want you to refer to me as Gus.
Me:  No, you are not a Gus.  Come up with something better.   Now, about the drugs.
Gus:  No.  Call me Gus. You can even explain that I’m not really a Gus.
Me:  No.
Gus:   Then I don’t want to be in it.
Me:  Too bad.
Gus:  I’m killing you off in my book.

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