An Unhealthy Curtain Attachment

I threw out the dirty curtains from my childhood room on Sunday. It’s very rare that I’m home during daylight but when I am, I notice how dusty everything is and end up cleaning.

As I was shoving the curtains into a couple trash bags, Daddy asked, “What, are you cleaning them?”

“No, I’m throwing them away,” I replied tersely. I was on a warpath.

“You know, they can be washed…”

“Daddy, they’re 30 years old.”

That actually shut him up. I mean, I don’t know for sure what normal people do, but I think they redecorate like once a decade? Curtains aren’t family heirlooms, right?

lord of the rings heirlooms

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Who Are You People?: A Search Terms Roundup

Reviewing one’s blog statistics can be a real ego boost (“Yay! Thanks for the ratings bump, Kevin Tydlaska!”) or ego killer (“Wahh! Did I weird people out by talking about my Daddy issues?”)

But mostly it’s just confusing. I have an MBA in Marketing and I still can’t figure out exactly who reads, why they read, and how they get here.

Despite my efforts, I can’t predict which posts will land, how many people will see my facebook links, or which time/day is best for posting.
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But That’s A Mess For Another Day…

Tuesday night, after I resolved to procrastinate cleaning until the weekend, Daddy called and asked if I could take the chicken out of the freezer for dinner. (Yes, it has occurred to me that I should do less complaining about the man that regularly serves me home cooked meals. Anyway…)

I realized I hadn’t been in the kitchen in several weeks, and it was more disgusting than I’d remembered. I saw what looked like half a peapod smushed on the counter, and that was it.

I went back upstairs, got my fancy vacuum cleaner, and finally started attacking parts of the house that I’ve been meaning to vacuum for months.

The staircase, covered with cobwebs and dust, was the most satisfying part. The worst part was the disgusting blinds, which I really just want to throw out, but am not ready to fight Daddy on that yet. So I tried to vacuum them and… something flew out at me!

Granted, it was a fly and not a bat. But still, I think it was lying dormant and now it’s going to kill me.

…or I could just Obama it. Remember that?

Then the kitchen. Where I also discovered a pile of old mail on the floor behind Daddy’s chair……. sigh…… But I got the peapod that had started this whole battle.

sure, it looks cute until it's rotting on your counter... credit

sure, it looks cute until it’s rotting on your counter…
credit

Finally, I got to the mudroom in the back of the house. When I started vacuuming dust bunnies out of what can only be described as a cartoon mouse hole, I gave up. I’m just too afraid of what I might find back there.

would you really want to clean this?

would you really want to clean this?

I don’t know which is worse, the fact that there’s still so much more cleaning to do, or that my dad will never even notice that I did anything.

...or maybe I could just stay with the neighbors for awhile credit

…or maybe I could just stay with the neighbors for awhile
credit

Oh well. I think I’ll save both my physical and emotional cobwebs for another day. I know that procrastination is generally frowned on, but I think it’s a legit self-preservation technique (sometimes).

What do you think, lovers and friends?
Are there things that are worth procrastinating?

Your Mother Doesn’t Work Here

“I’ve been back for five minutes and I already hate it.”

Yesterday, after staying at my mom’s for a week due to Daddy’s plumbing issues / my illness, Tom and I finally came home.

Five minutes was all it took. I brought my stuff upstairs and threw it on the bed next to the pile of folded laundry. I hung up my coat and excitedly proclaimed “I’m going to the bathroom and flushing the toilet!”

There, I encountered a dirty toilet, a dusty window sill with a dead ladybug on it (another story), and a sink full of beard trimmings. I sighed, having gotten too used to my mom’s clean house over the last several days.

I went back to our bedroom and declared my despair to Tom, who hugged me, because he’s nice like that.

I don’t know why I thought this place would magically be cleaner when I came back. I guess it was naive of me to think that it could even stay just as dirty as I left it a week ago.

All I know is that I have a chest and several sinuses full of mucus and I am tired of being in charge of cleaning around here. Can’t I just live with Mommy forever?

No? Well, I can at least procrastinate cleaning until the weekend.

Can Cleaning Be Fulfilling?

As you probably know by now, I hate cleaning and am full of excuses for not doing it.

But most of the time, I have to admit, it’s not that bad. Once I get started, I’m motivated to keep going and afterwards I’m a little to a lot satisfied.

Sadly, that was not the case on Sunday. Instead, I had an experience that reminded me that I’m bad at cleaning and should just give up.

When I started vacuuming, I noticed some yellow dust coming out from under the ugly rug that came with our room.

Ugly Rug

not my favorite decor

I flipped up the rug to reveal what used to be a carpet pad entirely disintegrated, except for the mesh that once held it together.

After First Vacuuming

this is AFTER I vacuumed the first time

I vacuumed, then cut away the mesh. But when I pulled up the mesh, yellow dust flew around the room. This caused my husband, let’s call him Saint Tom, to have to change the sheets.

The vacuum container filled up, and I actually remembered how to remove it! But not how to open it. So obviously, I dumped dust all over the bathroom. Twice.

After I finally got the dust from the vacuum to the garbage, all I had to do was Clorox wipe the vacuum and the rest of the bathroom, which now had dust all over it.

By the end, I was sweating and covered in yellow dust, but at least it made me actually want to shower.

So, no. Cleaning is not fulfilling. It still sucks, in case you were wondering.

Ms. PC’s Baggage

By now, you know I’m a sitcom fan, but when it comes to the game show genre, nothing can compete with Baggage.

First introduced to my eyes and ears on The Soup, Baggage (hosted by Jerry Springer so you know it’s good) seems like your typical dating show on the surface: sleezy, prematurely balding men get to be picky about which way-too-hot-for-them plastic Barbie they feel like going out with.
(I don’t mean to oversimplify. The picking goes both ways and I’m sure the guys are too hot for the girls sometimes, but you get the gist.)

Regardless, relative looks don’t matter much on the show because it all comes down to their weird, creepy baggage.

(email readers, click on the link to the blog to see the video)

My sister and I have often tried to think of what our baggage would be. These people are so crazy that it’s tough to think of anything that would remotely be considered for the show.
But in light of my last post, I thought I would do all my worst cleanliness-related baggage.

Ms. PC’s Baggage
(In order of embarrassment-level)

Round 1 (the personal item): I sometimes stare at dust for days or weeks before I get around to actually cleaning it. I only vacuumed up the dust bunnies at our old apartment after I saw little tiny bugs (don’t worry, I checked, not bedbugs).



Round 2 (the carry on): I am afraid to clean a lot of my dad’s house, including the drawers and cabinet under the bathroom sink. I opened one of the drawers, saw a dead moth in there, and just closed it back up again.


Round 3 (the checked luggage): I don’t like to shower. This will come as a shock to none of my close friends. I shower, of course, because society demands it, but I don’t like it. I could explain this further but, for now, I’ll just say… I have my reasons.


So there you have it. Don’t leave me hanging, lovers and friends. Feel free to confess your best (worst) baggage in the comments.

Excuses For Not Cleaning

It just occurred to me that anyone reading this blog, who doesn’t know me personally, might be under the misconception that I am a clean person, just because I criticize Daddy’s cleanliness. Well, I’m not. I try, but I encounter problems, such as:

  • It doesn’t come naturally to me.
  • I didn’t learn proper habits until college, and then I only did it begrudgingly under the guidance of the cleaning chart my roommate Peggy made out of a paper plate.
  • I’m busy.
  • When I’m not busy, I’m lazy.
  • I spend a lot of time writing bullet point lists.
  • I’m a type B person so I don’t really beat myself up for enjoying my weekends.
  • I don’t hate myself. In fact, I like myself so much that I find my own faults endearing, as if I’m Liz Lemon or Old Christine.
 
my anti-heroes
 

Of course, on TV, even slobs have clean houses. I mean, we slovenly viewers don’t want to be forced to look at a house that looks just like ours….

Liz Lemon’s Ikea furniture

Feel free to lend me your best cleaning excuses.