Hey kids,
You watch Hoarders with me occasionally. You know when they interview the hoarder and he or she says, "Well, I wouldn't really call myself a hoarder. A 'collector' maybe. Yeah, there are a couple rooms in the house that I've let get a bit out of control. But overall, I'm a clean person. I keep the house as clean as the next person." And as the person's talking, the camera cuts to shots of rat droppings on a doll's face, and bloated magazines busting out of a rotted box, and heavy, dusty cobwebs festooning the silverware and the long-dead houseplants.
So maybe we're not THAT bad (I mean, we're as clean as the next person, right?).
But the past couple of months, and in the right light, I could see that cobwebs were slowly taking over everything about a foot above eye-level. But I didn't do a damn thing about it. I guess I was waiting for "The Big Clean-Up" that would magically take place while I was sleeping or at work. The clean-up that would take care of the rest of the house's ills, as well as cobwebs. Even though every time I saw a dusty web flapping lazily in the breeze, my mind's eye flashed on rat droppings and moldering basements (both of which we don't have, btw).
Well, your Nana and Papa will be moving to town, like, TODAY, so this past weekend, we took matters into our own hands and cleaned the damn house.
It didn't take that long. I mean, it's a small house. One evening, after ya'll went to bed, was all it took to de-clutter all your toys AND the front room. I watched a Deadliest Catch marathon while I did it. The next day, a couple hours, TOPS, was all it took to clean the rest of the house. Your daddy did the bathroom and the kitchen and you guys and I did the bedrooms and the other bathroom. Maybe a total of five minutes with the vacuum and a brush is all it took to dispatch the cobwebs.
Jakob, somewhere along the line you became the world's best vacuumer. And that is not just lip service. You actually hit every square inch, and then to my surprise, and without me saying anything, you put on the tube attachment and ran around and did the baseboards. What the WHAT?!??
And THEN! You made out a checklist of a few other things that needed to be done. Which in itself does not surprise me; you live and die by your lists, like your momma. At the bottom of the list -- which included things like "MY ROOM: PUT AWAY 6 THINGS THAT DON'T BELONG" -- were two items:
• Show Dad
• Show Mom
So after you completed the items on your list and checked them off, you showed Dad and me. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT MOTHER BIRTHED YOU, cuz that kind of gumption certainly did NOT come from me.
Even Wavy got in on the fun by putting items where they rightfully belong. I'd hand you a fork from underneath the bed and you'd go and throw it in the sink. You helped me with the cobwebs by making sure the vacuum didn't fall over when I reached up high with the tube attachment.
I remarked to you afterwards, Jakob, that, "Aaaahhhh. Doesn't this feel nice? A clean house?" Then came the knife in the heart: "Yeah, mom! This is great! Why don't we do this every day?" I told you that maybe every day would get a bit tiresome, and you countered with, "Well every week then. Let's do it once a week." I agreed.
I did have to table a few items, for expediency's sake. There are a couple or three boxes of unsorted stuff to sort that were shoved into the backs of closets, the fridge still needs to be cleaned. The garage... well... that's a whole 'nother frightening story. But did I mention that your Nana and Papa will be here with a U-Haul truck TONIGHT? No? Well, some things can wait.
Oh what a horrible mother I am. Forcing you to live in filth and squalor. I'll understand, I guess, when I look out the window one of these days and see the half-dozen 1-800-GOT-JUNK trucks lining up in front of the house, courtesy of the both of you and the A&E channel.
Please forgive me, and let's clear an hour or so off of next weekend's calendar to do it again. Love you.
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