Every couple of months… God, who am I kidding? Let’s start again. About twice a year I have one of those mental cleaning sessions where you gut your home as though the queen was coming to visit—or the mother-in-law. I spend the six hours a day I get without anyone else in the house and clean my arse off. (I wish, I could do with losing some fat off there.) Anyway, I don the rubber gloves, get out the bleach, and go to town. Now, on these days I blast the music, sing my head off, and dance if the fancy takes me. I’m not talking your usual cleaning fit here, but one where you also clean out all manner of things, including your shit drawers. Everyone has those, don’t they? A place where all the small things go that you “might need for later”—elastic bands, superglue, pencils, paperclips. In my case, I have two shit drawers and several shit cupboards. On the days I clean these out, my stuff then gets placed in the shit shed in the garden, and when the shit shed gets cleaned out, the crap then goes to the shit tip, where the workers sort through my stuff and it gets picked up by other people. Great! Someone else now owns my shit!
So, once I’ve finished a day of cleaning like this, I expect someone to NOTICE. I do NOT appreciate people walking in, dumping down their stuff, kicking off their shoes, making a sandwich and leaving breadcrumbs all over my worktops, and generally acting as though I didn’t just sweat my tits off cleaning all day. I don’t want anyone to say, “Oh wow, you cleaned today!” as though gobsmacked because, said like that, it makes an issue of the fact that they possibly feel I don’t clean on all the other days. I do, just not so…well.
You want the truth? What I expect, is for no one to even MOVE in the house on those days. Just don’t BREATHE, all right? Sit still. With your hands on your lap so you don’t touch the sofa I washed. With your feet off the rug I vacuumed on my hands and knees with the hose part because all your debris gets trapped in the pile. When you eat your dinner…actually, sod it, you’re not getting any, because that means making more mess. You need to sit and admire the beauty of my hard work and memorise how it looks because it will not be like this again for a very long time. Mummy's a writer, don't you know.
Now I’ll give you the reality. The house stays clean like this for as long as I’m in it alone. When everyone comes home, it resembles the state it was in earlier that morning, leaving me thinking I may as well not have bothered. The only difference is that my beloveds are having chest issues because of the gorgeous smell of bleach lingering in the air.
So, once I’ve finished a day of cleaning like this, I expect someone to NOTICE. I do NOT appreciate people walking in, dumping down their stuff, kicking off their shoes, making a sandwich and leaving breadcrumbs all over my worktops, and generally acting as though I didn’t just sweat my tits off cleaning all day. I don’t want anyone to say, “Oh wow, you cleaned today!” as though gobsmacked because, said like that, it makes an issue of the fact that they possibly feel I don’t clean on all the other days. I do, just not so…well.
You want the truth? What I expect, is for no one to even MOVE in the house on those days. Just don’t BREATHE, all right? Sit still. With your hands on your lap so you don’t touch the sofa I washed. With your feet off the rug I vacuumed on my hands and knees with the hose part because all your debris gets trapped in the pile. When you eat your dinner…actually, sod it, you’re not getting any, because that means making more mess. You need to sit and admire the beauty of my hard work and memorise how it looks because it will not be like this again for a very long time. Mummy's a writer, don't you know.
Now I’ll give you the reality. The house stays clean like this for as long as I’m in it alone. When everyone comes home, it resembles the state it was in earlier that morning, leaving me thinking I may as well not have bothered. The only difference is that my beloveds are having chest issues because of the gorgeous smell of bleach lingering in the air.
There's a post of mine HERE about one of my other cleaning efforts, where I scrubbed the oven in my knickers...
And then the dreaded questions start: Mum, where’s my…
Don’t even go there, matey, because I seriously hate those kinds of questions. Like I said in my post HERE, I am not the bloody oracle.
Let us rewind, back to the previous day, when the laundry—okay, the mountain of laundry—was piled high on the kitchen worktop, waiting for me to put it away. Note I said ME. No other bugger will even attempt to do this job. When, on the rare occasion I ask someone else to do it, I find they have taken the laundry upstairs and dumped it on the bedroom floor. This winds me up for several reasons.
1, I stood there and folded all that laundry
2, I stood there and folded all that damn bloody laundry
3, I stood there and folded all that damn bloody-pissing-shitting laundry
And the other bug, the one that gets me even more…oh, God, I can barely even type it without gritting my teeth…PEOPLE TAKING AN ITEM OF CLOTHING FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE PILE AND LETTING THE PILE TOPPLE OVER!
Pant! Pant! Pant!
AND THEN PICKING UP THE PART OF THE PILE THAT FELL AND JUST DUMPING IT BACK ON TOP, ALL MESSED UP!
Jeepers, that REALLY gets on my piddling tits, I can tell you. I KNOW I don’t put it away as often as I should, and during the times I do keep up with it, I wonder why I don’t just put it away after every laundry session but… Give me a bit of respect here! I don’t enjoy standing there folding it from the dryer. I don’t enjoy, before it even gets to that stage, of unballing stinky old socks or unrolling sleeves because people can’t be bothered to do it themselves.
Okay, that’s set me off again. God help my family members if they approach me now…
Roar! Argh! Fffffffffffffffffffffecking hell! I’ve turned into a fire-breathing, bite-your-head-off, you’d-better-get-the-eff-away-from-me dragon!
I need therapy, I’m sure. I shouldn’t be getting so annoyed about such irrelevant things.
Anyone else share this bug with me?
Pubic announcement. Yes, I meant pubic…
I know we authors must have a professional air about us, but here at Four Strong Women I post things in my “real self” mode. I’m a person just like any other, after all, so for the following, just pretend I’m not meant to be watching my Ps and Qs…
And then the dreaded questions start: Mum, where’s my…
Don’t even go there, matey, because I seriously hate those kinds of questions. Like I said in my post HERE, I am not the bloody oracle.
Let us rewind, back to the previous day, when the laundry—okay, the mountain of laundry—was piled high on the kitchen worktop, waiting for me to put it away. Note I said ME. No other bugger will even attempt to do this job. When, on the rare occasion I ask someone else to do it, I find they have taken the laundry upstairs and dumped it on the bedroom floor. This winds me up for several reasons.
1, I stood there and folded all that laundry
2, I stood there and folded all that damn bloody laundry
3, I stood there and folded all that damn bloody-pissing-shitting laundry
And the other bug, the one that gets me even more…oh, God, I can barely even type it without gritting my teeth…PEOPLE TAKING AN ITEM OF CLOTHING FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE PILE AND LETTING THE PILE TOPPLE OVER!
Pant! Pant! Pant!
AND THEN PICKING UP THE PART OF THE PILE THAT FELL AND JUST DUMPING IT BACK ON TOP, ALL MESSED UP!
Jeepers, that REALLY gets on my piddling tits, I can tell you. I KNOW I don’t put it away as often as I should, and during the times I do keep up with it, I wonder why I don’t just put it away after every laundry session but… Give me a bit of respect here! I don’t enjoy standing there folding it from the dryer. I don’t enjoy, before it even gets to that stage, of unballing stinky old socks or unrolling sleeves because people can’t be bothered to do it themselves.
Okay, that’s set me off again. God help my family members if they approach me now…
Roar! Argh! Fffffffffffffffffffffecking hell! I’ve turned into a fire-breathing, bite-your-head-off, you’d-better-get-the-eff-away-from-me dragon!
I need therapy, I’m sure. I shouldn’t be getting so annoyed about such irrelevant things.
Anyone else share this bug with me?
Pubic announcement. Yes, I meant pubic…
I know we authors must have a professional air about us, but here at Four Strong Women I post things in my “real self” mode. I’m a person just like any other, after all, so for the following, just pretend I’m not meant to be watching my Ps and Qs…
For one of my posts during my week of blogging here, in the interests of femininity, based on our discussion the other day about hairy legs and shaving, and also a discussion on my Facebook page about grey hairs, I am going to brave the unknown and do something just for you guys. Yes, I’m nice like that. Also, I’m curious to see if it will work.
You see, I’ve noticed some grey hairs DOWN THERE. And yes, I am going to DYE them and report back to you. I’ve found a very helpful site, where a woman has given tips on how to do this, and rather hilariously, she has made sure to tell her readers that this process isn’t recommended by healthcare officials due to the sensitive flesh, but that it has worked for her very well indeed. I have read her tips with much interest and will follow them to the letter.
I’m more upset by THOSE hairs than the grey ones on my head, and my God, they’ve GOT to go.
So, my dears, look out for that post!
And I’d just like to squeal…
SQUEAL!
That’s better. My Ellora’s Cave historical time-travel, His Beautiful Wench by Natalie Dae, is released today. Details HERE. EC releases freak me the hell out (I tend to poop a lot, no joke), so I’m off to have one of those mad cleaning days to keep my mind off it. I shall nip online periodically between bouts of bleaching. Oh, my poor family, when I tell them, “It’s that time again, loves. Please refrain from breathing when you step inside.” Even more so today, what with the poop problem...
Have a great day, folks!
31 comments:
Okay, first off, congrats on the new release today. His Beautiful Wench is an amazing book and I ohhhh sooooo love it, hon. Just love it to pieces.
Now, I know what you mean about the cleaning thing when you go what we call down south---"go hawg ass wild with the bleach". I do that too. And when they come home and say, "oh, someone's been cleaning" I want to ram a broom down their throats. Yep, I do. Cause like you, I get the sense that they feel I don't clean on other days--which I do--I just don't get carried away with the bleach and with tucking everything away so that nothing is showing anywhere. And it just pisses me off when they start walking around and touching things.
This morning I woke up to see my family room absolutely destroyed. The girls did it too. Not the boy. I know exactly where that boy was--in his room playing Black Ops. I heard him there and know for a fact he went to bed at nine-thirty. But the girls will try and blame this destruction on him and it's soooo not going to work. There are like fifty million sunflower seeds scattered across the floor--I kid you NOT.
And the really wonderful thing is that both of those girls have school and work today. But I swear by everything I love and hold holy. That mess is going to stay right where it is until those two clean it. I will NOT do it. No sir. I've had it. Period.
Heh. Congratulations on your new release, though I'm not sure why you would be particularly freaked out. That's the whole point of writing, isn't it?
Cleaning. My living room is currently piled very, very high with boxes, bags, furniture, etc. so my bunch can move out in two days. Don't talk to me about a messy house. I can't walk through mine.
My solution...to the laundry. Teach them to do their own. I did that a very long time ago. EVERYONE does their own laundry. No clean clothes? Huh. That must be because you missed your laundry day. See if you can trade off with your brother/sister/father.
See? No problem.
Yessssssssss, Tess. Touching things. UGHHHHHHH.
LOL @ Black Ops. Got that damn thing in this house too. Lots of extra swearing going on up there.
Yep, let them clean it. Little buggers!
:o)
Anny, when it's an EC release, my body goes all weird. I have to clean like a maniac to take my mind off it. I've cleaned for 3 hours so far, got some more to do in a minute.
As for the laundry...I can't allow them to touch my machine. Or my dishwasher. Nope, they're my toys. Hands off!
:o)
P.S. Thank you both for the congrats. See how I try and avoid these days?
:O)
Nah...I save the jitters for the day I get the royalty statement. THEN I'm nervous. Delayed reaction.
And there is NO machine in the house except the computer that I'm that possessive of. Not the washing machine, dishwasher, stove, microwave, refrigerator...NOPE. Not one.
Especially not the vacuum!
Anny, there was nothing my mother loved more than to see freshly made vacuum tracks in the carpet. She'd just smile at them---then she'd get out her trusty carpet rake and rake the pile out just the way it should be with no marks. Then we were not allowed to walk on it for a while. LOL So we stood around looking stupid.
I laughed all the way through this!
Although I no longer have anyone at home to blame messes on except for the cat, I DO remember the grabbing of an item from the middle of the folded laundry stacks. I laughed out loud reading your blog, knowing I wasn't the only victim of that!
And, hey, good luck with the coloring 'down there'!
Enjoyed the blog!
Ohh-----sorry----forgot...CONGRATULATIONS on the release of His Beautiful Wench!
I should learn to let my machines be used by others, Anny. I can't help it, though. Possessive of them.
:o)
Ahahahahah! I'm the same, Tess, with the carpet marks. So funny!
:o)
Thanks, CZ.
Glad I'm not the only one that laundry pile thing bugs. Really does get on my last nerve.
:o)
Oh. My. God! I thought stuff like that only happened in my house. Like the middle of the pile laundry thing. Why do I bother.
My son used to help me clean, but as he got older, and esp. when my grandson lives with use while my daughter is deployed, his response is why should I bother when ten minutes later it's messy again. Poor kid, jaded already. But, do you think it stops him from taking clothes from the middle of the pile, or even worse, sending STILL folded clothes back to the laundry room after a cleaning spree of his room. Grrrrrr.
It's a losing battle.
On the other hand...big congrats on His Beautiful Wench!!
Your first paragraph about shit had me laughing because it reminds me of George Carlin's routine about peoples' "stuff." LOL! If you're curious, I'm sure you can find it if you type in his name and "stuff" at You Tube.
I threw a fit yesterday and went on a cleaning frenzy because someone misplaced the MiFi cord that plugs into my laptop. I finally found it, and realized who had misplaced it. The youngest did because he spotted something poking out of the box it was sitting on that he wanted to investigate, so the cord landed between the box and the wall. However, not only did I clean a lot trying to find that cord, I also RANTED and CURSED a lot too!
Way to go on the new EC release, my friend!
Thanks do much for a new phrase (sweat my tits off cleaning all day) It will be used in heavy rotation around my house!
Since they were 10 and 9 mine have had to load the washer and dryer!
We don't have a dishwasher but me and that's because they always leave the dishes soapy and I don't like eating soap! (LOL)
congrats on the new release!
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Deb, you hit on another one of my bugs. Clean, folded laundry in the dirty hamper.
I swear, I'm going to self-combust today just thinking about this crap! AHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Really, I'm sitting here typing like a nutter and gritting my teeth!
Thanks for the congrats, love!
Shit, I just thought of another one. Rolled-up socks under beds, covered in dust bunnies.
*dragon-flame mouth ahead!*
:o)
Faith, that would just really BUG me. Who wants to clean like a nutter for no reason? GOD!
Thanks for the congrats, dearest!
:o)
Hey, Abigail. Use that phrase like a mofo on a mission. "Hey, I've cleaned my tits off today! How dare you mess this place up?"
It gets their eyes rolling really fast, and they tend to wander off to get away from you. PEACE! BARGAIN OF THE DAY!
Thanks for the congrats!
:o)
OMG! I thought all that cleaning shit was done by the maid? WTF?
Okay I just had to laugh because I just got done in my 15 year old daughters room. Mind you have a migraine here too. I found 10 and I mean 10 of my cups up in her room, under her bed, in the window sill, you name it. Not to mention I found old cereal bowls up there with food stuck to the bottom of the bowls! YUCK! I now have 10 cups soaking in hot water because you cant scrub the damn things when its been siting for the past two weeks. Than the trash I took three empty trash bags upstairs just for her room. Needless to say all three were full when I got done.
OH don't talk about clothes, my daughter took all those clean clothes I just did and threw them on her floor with the dirty ones! Not to mention the ton of shoes she has all over the place.
Grandma is so getting an ear full on those. That damn girl has over 30 pairs of shoes thrown over her room, do you think she would get rid of any of them NO!
UGGG headache is killing me, but I'm stuck doing mega laundry!
Trinity
Shit, Trin. That sounds a nightmare. Grandma needs to stop buying her shoes!
:o)
OMG! It is amazing how untied (ROFLMBO ... just thought you ought to see that typo), I mean how united woman are in their struggles aroung the house. Seems to be universal. I cringed at every laundry/mess/dishes issue you brought up. My other favorite is when Mr. Nina seems to think a hamper is an AREA of the bedroom and I pick up his tightie whities every morning because he believes the prepositions "in" and "near" are synonymous.
Congrats on the book release today. Here's wishing you a ton of sales that don't require folding. ;)
Hiya Nina! Loving the typo. No need to hide them here!
Yesssssssssssss. The bedroom floor hamper. My goodness, I could headbutt the wall at the thought of it.
Hmm. I seriously have issues. I know this. At least I'm aware and can possibly seek help when it gets too bad.
Thanks for the congrats. Very much appreciated, love!
:o)
I'm trying not to swear. Just mopped the floors. Boy came home early. Walked all over them while they're WET.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFecking HELL!
OMG, Nina, what I hate the most about picking up my son's or my husband's tightie whities is finding pairs that look like they've hit a deer! ACK! {runs screaming into the night}
And Trin, it sounds like my youngest dau and yours should be sisters!
I love this blog! You ladies make the mundane, ordinary things in life absolutely hilarious.
Congrats on your release, Sarah.
You sound just like my mom did when I was a kid as far as the cleaning and laundry goes. Especially with the laundry thing.
Of course, I would never take something from the middle of the pile and then let the rest topple over. My brothers always did that, never me. And I always, ALWAYS, put my laundry away. I wouldn't dream of tossing it in the chair in the corner and then complain later that my shirt was wrinkled. I think that's why my mom taught us how to do our own laundry, how to use the wash machine and how to iron. That way, if we didn't have clean clothes, or ironed shirts, we had no one to blame but ourselves.
I am so glad I don't have kids.
Hiya Casey!
HAHAHAHA @ I'm so glad I don't have kids. So funny.
I didn't do the laundry-topple thing either as a kid. Mind you, I was the one doing all the washing back then too. So when I think about it, I've been doing laundry for nearly 28 years. OMG!
Thanks for the congrats!
LMAO @ word verification: dompul
Yeah, Veri mate, that ought to be DON'T PULL!
:o)
Oh, my God, Tess, I remember the carpet rake. I used to have to use one after vacuuming because, you know, that's just how it was done. (g)
I am fortunate that DH and the DD will fold and put clothes away. However, if the bathroom or toilet is going to be cleaned, guess who does it? If the kitchen (not dishes, but kitchen) is going to be cleaned, who do you think will do it? Hm... Yup, me. Because I am the only one who uses them, right? Uh-huh. Sure. That's it.
Once, I let the toilet go for a month or two just to see if DH would deign to clean it, even with just the brush. I couldn't stand it any longer. Fortunately, he doesn't splatter, but certainly picking up that toilet brush and swishing it around in the bowl isn't that hard. Surely he could do it once in a while, right?
Oops! Congrats on the release, Sarah. I've already congratulated on it, but not here. :)
Marci, I've tried the "leaving it" thing. Didn't work here either.
Thanks for the congrats!
:o)
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