It’s time

The time has come to give this blog a kick in the proverbial.

I’m can feel a cleaning frenzy coming on. MMMM….bleach, spray and wipe, rubber gloves, furniture polish…sounds like a fun time is to be had by all!

Stand by folks. The coffee is almost done, the bikkies are baking, the windows are open with a breeze blowing the cobwebs away, and before you know it, we’ll be regaling you with our tales of our OCD madness.

Germ collectors

I’m quite odd about some things. Many people would say I’m just odd, period, but that’s not quite accurate. Getting off track, sorry.

So. I’m not much into germs. I can handle untidy or messy, but cannot stomach dirty. The problem this creates for me is there are many germ collectors we come into contact with every day, but never think of them as such. We only see them as every day items provided for every day activities.

Here is but a short list:

Shopping trolleys:
How the hell do you know what type of person had it before you? Were they sick? Did they pick their nose immediately prior to grabbing the trolley? Perhaps they sneezed all over the handle? Did they wash their hands after going to the toilet? Did they wash their hands after jerking off the other half before they left the house?

Money: Have you ever looked at your hands after counting all that spare change you keep in a bowl or jar? I can just about guarantee they’ll be putrid! Can you imagine being a bank teller? It would be one of the few clerical jobs where you would need to wash your hands BEFORE you go to the toilet I’m thinking.

Magazines in the doctors waiting room: The next time you’re in the waiting room, look around and see how many people lick their finger or thumb before they turn the page! Given this is a place where sick people congregate, there is now way I’m EVER reading a magazine while I’m waiting to see the doctor.

Public toilet seats: Now, this a place we put one of the most sensitive parts of our bodies! Have you ever thought about the person who may have been sitting there before you? The diseases they could have? Not for nothing do we have those little antiseptic wipes on the wall of the cubicle. For pity’s sake, use them before you even think about sitting down! I’d hate to see you go for a pee and exit with some type of STD!!! Ok, you may not use a public toilet every day, but when you do it would be nice to survive and be able to tell the tale yes?

Public phones: Now I have a mobile phone, mostly for convenience and family, however NOT having to use a public phone is a bonus! Your mouth is where millions of germs thrive regardless of how hygienic you are, so please don’t think I’m suggesting otherwise ok? The mere THOUGHT of who used that phone before me is the stuff nightmares are made of! There are people who pick their nose and eat the resulting little ball of snot, as disgusting as that thought is. Do you really want to be the next person to put the receiver to your mouth?? I know I don’t.

These are but a few items/activities that most of us use/do almost every single day of our life. It’s a big, bad germy world out there let me say! Scary even!

I’m sure you can think of more to add?

First they binge, then we purge

As I sit here watching Bucket of Blood on TCM, I find myself reflecting on the day’s activities and find myself feeling damn smug.    Porque’ Observant, you may ask.  Why have you puffed yourself up to the size of larger-than-life Jack O’Lantern?  

 Because today I purged.

Ken has left town for the weekend and I spent my day reorganizing his crap.  His boxes and boxes of man-crap that were moved into the house over a year ago and have been hogging up space ever since.  Since my son will be moving back home in December, his old room needs to have the old kiddie wallpaper stripped and be repainted (or rewallpapered, depending on the condition of the plaster underneath).  His room is the room Ken moved all his thousands of boxes into 15 months ago, and that is where they’ve sat. 

So today I opened them up and reorganized them.  What was once 10 boxes is now 5.  And they all fit into the hall closet.

But the really exciting part was finding his paperwork.  The paperwork he could not bring himself to throw away when he was packing up to move in.  Yes, I’m talking about 10 years worth of phone bills and credit card statements and auto repair bills (for cars he no longer owns), Ten years of cancelled checks and bank statements and investment statements.  I dumped them all into two large trash bags.  Without his consent.

I was half terrified and half enraptured with myself!

And then I panicked.  What would happen when I told him?  Would this be the one thing he’d not be able to forgive me?   As a compromise, I did not put the trash bags in the trashcan; I left them in the house.  As a gesture of respect, I kept and reorganized his tax paperwork (even though he’ll never need those 1995 tax statements).   

A few hours later he called to say he’d gotten to his destination.  “Honey, I did something real bad” I said in a rush, hoping he wasn’t really listening.  “I got really really busy cleaning stuff up and I needed some room in the closet so I threw away your old receipts and stuff.   But I kept the trash bags for you and if you want I’ll put it all back.  Okay?”    I waited for him to respond.  Would this brazen act of OCDness send him over the edge? 

“Aw, it’s OK” he said.  “That stuff needed to be thrown out anyway.” 

It did?  Since when?  In the conversation I remembered, he explicitly nixed my idea of tossing the phone bills from 1999.  Ditto with the insurance statements from 2003.  I remember him practically snatching his precious files from my careless little hands and holding them close to his chest.  “No I’m keeping these” he said firmly.   The 8 expando files moved into my house, where they sat untouched for 15 months.  

This news that he’d finally “let go” of his paperwork indicated real progress!  

I’m holding out hope that my hoarder-in-residence will see the light and embrace the concept of minimalism I find so comforting.  Maybe someday we’ll go down to the basement together, where the rest of his really important stuff resides, and do some purging as a couple.  And perhaps, while we purge, we can listen to the cassette tape of Hot Christian Favorites I found in his other stuff today.   We’ll groove to the sounds of Change Your Ways while I give him a knowing smile, appreciating the double meaning of the tune, given the circumstances. 

Well, I can dream, can’t I?

Party poooper?

So I survived a birthday slumber party with several eight and nine year old little girls over this past weekend. Let me just say first off, I quit smoking in January and have rarely craved a shmoke. I dearly wanted one at 6AM this morning as they woke me up screaming and running through the house.

I knew that the girls would be in and out, in and out all day/night long so I didn’t make the house spotless before they came over. Yeah, it was clean. But, it coulda been cleaner, and I wasn’t too afraid knowing that my floors weren’t mopped, and the child’s room wasn’t spotless, and so on. I knew that once they left, I’d have the opportunity to fix and clean everything.

And I didn’t set any rules. No, I didn’t want to throw a bunch of rules at the girls, and expect them to actually listen. I didn’t want to sound like an old, biddy so I let them do what they wanted. Oh my freaking gosh . . . a mad house, I was in a freaking mad house.

I was literally going, OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG .. ! Oh – My – FREAKING – Gosh! Look at my floor! Look at my couch! Look at my kitchen! Oh my poor poor kitchen!!! Don’t worry cabinets, they won’t slam you shut much longer. No, they’re parents will pick them up soon. Oh, ‘fridgerator, don’t cry. The spilled milk on your shelves can be cleaned up. Oh there, there .. let me get it!

I cringed. And I cussed under my breath. I held my breath. I looked away, and covered my eyes. I peeked through my fingers and saw them pillow fighting with my couch cushions, and I was like ohhhh myyyy freeeeaking goshhhh!!

I finally got them all to settle down and eat some breakfast. Cake and ice cream for breakfast, all around! I sugared them up and sent their little butts home. And then I got to cleaning! And I cleaned. And I smiled. And I loved every minute of it.

Vacuum woes

I try to vacuum my house every day, so I was quite heartbroken when my vacuum decided to crap out on me. It was a very reliable vacuum, too. I’ve had it almost 7 years and it’s never given me an ounce of trouble. But gradually, it just started going downhill, not wanting to suck and clean properlly. I was not going to have that, either!

So it farted out, which meant I had a decision to make since buying a new vacuum is not really in my budget .. electricity for the month or a new vacuum. Which one – which one. It was an incredibly hard decision to make, but in the end, I made the ultimate decision of getting a vacuum. I just gotta figure out how I’m going to make use of it in the dark *sigh*

I need a life

Actual conversation with my mother today.

Mom: So what kind of fun and excitement did you get into last night? [Saturday night]

Me: Oh, not much. I cleaned and polished my washer and dryer.

Mom: Really.

Me: Yup. And the facing of the dishwasher.

Mom: Oooh, exciting.

Me: Yup. I know it. I’m gangsta to the core.

Mom: You need a life.

Me: *Makes a face behind her back*

She, BTW, went on a date and spent four and a half hours at the Burger King, sipping sodas. And I’m the one that needs a life.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Computer whizzzz

My computer. It is mine. The husband and child might use it occasionally, but it is mine. And I keep it the way I want it to be kept. I organize it the way I want it to be. I purge what I want gone. I keep what I want to keep. The files are kept cleaned out, defragggged, organized just right, and anything I see that doesn’t belong gets tossed out. On a regular basis.

I don’t keep emails in the inboxes. They don’t belong there. If they’re keepers, they’ll get filed along with the others. Or they’re just deleted.

Pictures and music files are not to be kept on the computer – They take up space. That’s what they make flash drives for. I don’t want the memory used up on my computer.

Even the desktop is organized and clean of clutter. I have six icons on the desktop. No more, no less. Only six because those are used the most often, their homes are on the desktop.

Noone is allowed to change anything on my computer. Not the colors, not the font size, not the volume, nothing. I don’t even want the monitor moved. It is mine. It’s how I want it to be. It shall stay that way.

Got it? Good. Carry on.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Erks me long time

Cupboards and drawers must always stay closed. I don’t want to see them open even a fraction of an inch. I don’t want them ajar . at . all.

And I don’t want to see anything poking out of them. No clothes, no towels, nothing. I like them clean looking so that means that whatever is in the cupboards and/or drawers, must be completely inside. No poking out. Ever.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

Cleanliness rocks my socks

 

I don’t trust any kind of cleaner that I can’t smell. Take the new Clorox Anywhere spray cleaner mumbojumbo. It’s like water. Water. It has no smell. No color. It’s like spraying water everywhere, and cleaning it off. How do you know for sure that it’s actually clean if you can’t smell the cleanliness?

I like the smell of cleaners. Wood polish, yes please! Windex, over here! Bleach, hells yes. Give me some bleach, and I’m a happy camper. I mop with bleach water. Always. Twice a week. No fail.

A few weeks ago, the daughter came home from being away at her dad’s for a week, and I had just finished mopping the kitchen and bathrooms.

Her: *sniffs around* What’s that smell, Ma?

Me: I just mopped.

Her: Yeah, but what’s the smell? *sniffs more*

Me: It’s bleach.

Her: *big sniffff* Mmm, Mama, it smells soooo goood!

Me: Yes, that’s called cleanliness.

Her: My dad’s house doesn’t smell like cleanliness.

Me: *my heart bursted wide open, smiling from within* No, huh?

Her: No, that’s why I like living here.

Me: Good answer.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::

A little down time

Okay, so I threw my back out the other day causing me to be bed-ridden most of the weekend *ughhh!* which in turn made my house completely and totally unruly. It was a mess, noone picked up after themselves. The dishes were piling up. There were empty glasses in the living room. Dirty clothes were spewed everywhere. The dog was starving and becoming quickly dehydrated. I was not happy.

But then . . then, the husband decided he wanted “to help”. He did laundry. He cleaned the kitchen. He attempted to fold my towels. And he rearranged the bathroom towels. And he put dishes up where they don’t belong. And he folded my towels! And he swept the kitchen floor the wrong way. And he didn’t pick up the poop off the floor. And he folded the towels! And he left wet laundry in the washer. And he gave the dog too much water *yes, he can have TOO much* And and .. and he folded my towels!!!

I understand he was trying to help, but he wasn’t helping. Once I’m up and running again *which I’m hoping is tomorrow!!* I’ll have to redo everything. Until then I’ll just wince and cringe at everything he touches.

:: :: :: Red :: :: ::