I don't know about the rest of you, but I am kind of a cleaning machine. For the most part, I even enjoy it, mainly because I feel like I can get my frustrations out in a non-violent manner as I attack various parts of the house. (except dusting. yuck. i will always try to pass off dusting.) And I really like how the house looks when I'm done. It's a good feeling of accomplishment, even if for the rest of the day you can smell the pine-sol the instant you walk through the front door.
So last weekend, when both my roommates were out of town, I went above and beyond the call of duty with my Saturday morning chores. I always clean my bathroom and vacuum my floor, as well as doing laundry. But occasionally I'll add the kitchen floor to that (and i still get on my hands and knees to scrub ... thanks for the early training, mom). So bathroom, vacuum, laundry, kitchen floor. We have a half-bath on the main level that is not really under anybody's "jurisdiction", but I'm sure it's never been cleaned since long before I even moved in, so that got added to the list. Bathroom, vacuum, laundry, kitchen floor, half-bath. But I was on a roll and kept going. Bathroom, vacuum, laundry, kitchen floor, half-bath, all kitchen surfaces (which of course requires moving things around, which we rarely do). Then came the biggest challenge by far. The microwave. What a chore! But again, when I was done, I was thrilled! It was a thing of beauty. When Lisa got back from Houston, I even went so far as to tell her to look in the microwave. That's how excited I was about it being clean again. What a nerd.
Then this Friday night came along. Once again I was alone in the house. Once again I got in my cleaning mode, but I attacked a different part of the house entirely. There is another small room on my floor that has basically turned into a storage room ... which I utilized the instant I moved in. That room was an unmitigated disaster. Not "dirty", exactly, but a bona fide mess. What I had added to it over the course of the last year didn't help matters, either. It took me two hours and five pails of garbage to organize the chaos, but when I was done, you could see the floor! (and the futon.) Still plenty of stuff being stored in there, but you're not afraid to enter for fear of being lost in a black hole! Again, when Lisa arrived home that night, I told her to go downstairs and take a look.
But I still haven't dusted. Would anybody like to come over and take care of that?
"Neurotics build castles in the air, psychotics live in them. My mother cleans them." -Rita Rudner