Cleaning Frenzy and Fantasies

Since Lily's 7th birthday party (in July), I've been in a cleaning frenzy. It's not that the house is dirty. It's that it's messy, and I am tired of cleaning frantically the few days before we have people over. Matter of fact, I grew tired of not being able to see my coffee table, or having just enough space on my dining room table to put three plates for eating. Should someone eat dinner with us, usually a friend of Lily's, one of the adults ate at the couch. (Which is not always a bad thing if you want some peace and quiet. Yes, the TV is quieter than two very excited, nattering girls. (g))

So, yes, I was tired of it. I decided that I would spend an hour cleaning, tidying every day until the house was free of clutter. Well, my clutter anyway. Charlie's is a different story. He's responsible for his own. If it were up to me, you can all guess what would happen to his. (g)

How has this been working? Well, for the most part. I prefer to do this first thing in the morning after breakfast. The past couple of days, though, have not been as productive. I haven't been moving as quickly. Things are still clean. (I have turned into a bit of a Nazi about putting things away. Everyone must put their stuff away, or I snarl and growl.)

I've been going through old papers, shredding, organizing, and filing. I've found papers from 1997. What? 1997? I still have them? What have I been thinking? I've got so many papers I am swimming in them...practically. If there was enough room to swim in them, I would be, but there's not. And there isn't enough room for all of the paper, or hasn't been. When I'm done, there will be. I will find a spot for every single piece of paper, even if it's in the shedder/recycle, or die trying.

So far, I've uncovered the dining room table, the coffee table, the desk, and the keyboard, which may be for sale here soon. And I've developed a system to keep me on track because it can get overwhelming. Except, I'm still a bit overwhelmed despite the progress, and there are days that I just don't want to do it. Where burning all of it would make me very happy.

Unfortunately, I can't do that, as appealing as it is. Instead, I have a few little fantasies about this. (Remember, these are fantasies, people. I do not foresee any of them happening, unfortunately. Sigh Well, maybe one.)

Fantasy One

One morning, I wake up to find my two cats, Blackie and Little Miss Thang, have been in the music room filing as only cats can. Items that they find unnecessary (because they can ready my mind even as I sleep), they have shredded, stuffed in a bag, and carted out to the recycle bin. The ones that can be sold are already up for sale on eBay or paid for by their many cat friends who want the crap, er, used items and out of our house. All my cats want in return is some catnip.

Yes, this has no basis in reality, but it is a fantasy, after all.

Fantasy Two

Everyone is trustworthy. No contracts are needed. We don't need banks. Lawyers don't exist. The IRS and government don't require us to keep any records, and the whole world is peachy because we never make mistakes.

Stuff I don't want, I leave out on the front lawn with price tags on them. People leave money and take what they want.

It could happen.

I know. I know. (sigh) No basis in reality. Get off your drugs, Marci. (g)

Fantasy Three

I "accidentally" drop a match on the papers. They go up in smoke, but nothing else is burned. When the fire burns out, every piece of paper I need to keep is miraculously in its file, every thing I don't want just disappears into the ether (much like some emails seem to do), and all the papers to be shredded join the things I don't want, never to be seen again.

Ah... What a lovely thought! (g)

Fantasy Four

I come home from shopping to find a crew of hot, sexy men wearing nothing but Speedos/boxers/whatever keeps their washboard abs, broad, muscular shoulders, and tight buns in sight for admiring. (g) They are cleaning the room.

One walks up to me and says: "Follow me."

He takes my hand and leads me to a massage table. While they finish cleaning my room, I get the best massage I've ever had. I'm so relaxed I fall asleep. I awaken refreshed, with a clean room, a gourmet dinner waiting for me on the dining room table (with a romantic place setting), and my husband in a romantic mood. (g)

Fantasy Five

I have powers like Jeannie and/or Samantha. 'Nuff said. (g)

Fantasy Six

I win the lotto and can hire a professional organizer and a house cleaner. Neither of which share my name. (g)

This is the only one that is remotely in the realm of possibility...even if it is a stretch. (g)

Yes, I have a lot of fantasies. (g) I am sure you do, too.

So, do you have a catchall room? And what is your fantasy(ies) about all that crap, er, stuff?