I wrote half of another post yesterday. It was snarky, very snarky. I thought that I’d keep my snark going, honestly it’s kind of tough for me to let go of snark once I’ve got it rolling, but it’s gone. Here’s my replacement. Enjoy!
Do you like cleaning? Do you like getting your exercise picking up crayons, and little slips of paper, and oddball stickers off the floor? I really don’t. I do it. I do it every day, but it’s something I do with a great deal of disdain. My focus is the main part of the house. I disregard the children’s rooms (which they clean for their allowance), and the basement as if it doesn’t even exist.
The basement is the area in my house where I say things like, “It’s fine if you want to kill each other, just do it in the basement.” Or, “Yes, you can make a six bedroom fort with a private bathroom and library if you do it in the basement.” Sometimes, I hear screams that are unnatural coming from the basement. I don’t care.
The basement got bad, really bad this past summer. So while I was up chatting with friends over warm muffins and coffee, or writing, or enjoying a good book–the basement was slowly unravelling. It got to the point where nobody actually wanted to go in the basement. I become somewhat embarrassed by that place. People would come over and I’d say things like, “Oh, we don’t go down there. Monsters.”
My mother has the cleaning gene. She’s just really good at it. She actually came yesterday and helped me clean that basement. She’s a wizard at organizing and getting corners and making sure that everything is just so. My basement looks like it belongs in a magazine now. You should see it!
But you know what Phyllis Diller once said,
“Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like is like shoveling the walk while it’s still snowing.”