By Heather O.
I freely admit, I am not the greatest housekeeper. But there are things about cleaning that I really don’t mind. I like mopping a floor, or scrubbing the bathroom, or vacuuming. I should do all of these more often, but when I do them, they give me a sense of accomplishment, as they are straightforward, easy tasks. Sticky stuff on the floor? Swoosh it with a mop or a wipe, and it’s gone. Fingerprints on the faucets? Swish, and the sink is shiny once more. Poop on the toilet? Not my favorite thing, but it’s easily taken care of with paper towels and some Clorox clean-up spray.
But what do you all do with the STUFF?
Today in the laundry room, as I was putting in my laundry soap, I finally paid attention to what else was actually on the shelf with my Gain. I tend to deposit things I find in the washer or dryer or pockets of clothes there, and I decided to actually take a look at what all was up there. I kid you not, I found 3 pens, a Power Ranger sticker, a wheel that somehow fits into a once-cool now broken Spiderman toy, one earring (no mate, of course. The other one is probably half way to China, or some poor fish ate it, thinking it was something special, and died. Some environmentalist will no doubt find this dead fish, slice it open to find out what killed it, find my gold earring, and demand that the people of America stop dumping earrings into the waterways of our country for the poor unsuspecting fish to gobble up. Great. Now I have guilt.), and about 20 cents in change, mostly pennies.
Holy guacamole, where does this stuff come from? And more importantly, what am I supposed to do with it? Most of the time, my stuff ends up getting stashed in a decorative basket somewhere in my house, but I’m not sure that’s a great solution. So, the stuff isn’t really more organized, you just think that it is because it’s in a lovely basket instead of spread out all over the floor. But if you ask me what I’ve got in those baskets, well, I couldn’t tell you. I really don’t have a clue. And frankly, I’m scared to find out.
And of course, since having a child, the Stuff has just accumulated. Must preschool send home 3 or 4 pictures, art projects, projects to complete at home, EVERY DAY? I swear, the decorative art on our fridge is making getting the darned thing open kind of hard, and we even still have a 4 leaf clover on our fridge left over from LAST YEAR because Jacob seems to discover it in the trash every time I have attempted to throw it away, and insists we stick it up there again. Great. I’ve spawned a pack rat, and a narcissistic one at that. (I’m almost positive that’s not how you spell “narcissistic,” but I’ve got to get Jacob to gymnastics in 10 minutes. Cut me some slack, here.)
So if you come over to my house any time soon, you are more than welcome. Just pick your way past the paper, the art, the overflowing bookshelves, the toys, you know, the STUFF. Be persistent, keep looking, and don’t worry–I think I’m in here somewhere.
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