I occasionally get these wild ideas to do some intensive house cleaning. The problem is that I don't get get those wild ideas nearly often enough. I mean I used to when the kids were much younger. They'd be crawling around on the floor, eating anything they could put in their mouths. It used to drive me insane to see anything on the floor that didn't belong there. I think it might have been those nesting hormones. I had a huge carry-over of those until my youngest was probably 5. Once they stopped eating lint and crawling around, I got a little more lax.
Then after that, well, it must have gone downhill.
I realized a long time ago that no one really cares what I do. It's what I don't do that gets their attention. And by "no one," I'm referring to my ever-lovin' family. They don't notice if I scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees. Well, not unless they come home and I can no longer stand upright because of the time and elbow grease required. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know.
Food must magically appear in the cupboards and fridge. Dirty underwear somehow make it from the hamper to the dresser drawers smelling April fresh. I certainly don't get any credit. But boy, oh boy, if there's no Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch, the world as we know it comes close to ending.
I'm not saying they're particularly ungrateful creatures. What I'm saying is that their fluckin' spoiled, and about the time I come down with the plague or something, then and only then, do they notice that I do a whole lot to make their lives run smoothly. It's unfair, and a rather thankless job, but it's the way it is. I've accepted it.
Anyway, I decided on Tuesday that the dining room needed a good cleaning. I asked my friend, "Do you notice after the heating season that you get almost a film on stuff from running gas heat?"
"Well, I guess I might notice if I actually cleaned," she told me.
I crawled up on the dining room table. It's sturdy, one of those old antique deals that isn't going to bow under my weight. I was knocking down some cobwebs when I took a step back. What happened next left me slightly stunned. I was smacked in the side of the head.
"What the hell was that?" I thought as I stepped back. I was nearly decapitated by the ceiling fan. Thankfully, it's a cheap ceiling fan and far from sturdy. Though I'm probably damn lucky I didn't step back off the table and plummet to the floor.
In my cleaning fury, I found a box of little nails. I had this set of decorative plates that I probably bought in 96 at the antique store. They went from drawer to drawer in the past ten plus years. I'd get them out, hope that someone (read the husband) would help me hang them. Then I'd give up and move them to another location.
They'd set on the kitchen counter for a few months, and I thought, hmm...got a hammer...got some nails...go some plates...got a clean dining room wall...I'm hanging those bitches. The one thing that had stopped me from doing it alone is that the native timber behind the walls is like hammering into concrete. Unless I've got a drill, which I do but someone heisted my bits, it's really a futile process.
The hammer I found, though, was like a mini-sledge hammer. Those nails were going in if it were the last thing that I did.
I'll admit, I'm a short little thing. I'm only a few inches taller than those who were hanging out in Munchkinland. I have spent a lifetime standing on chairs, crawling onto counters, and using wooden spoons to knock things down from top shelves. I had to stretch a bit to position the nails where I wanted these four plates to hang.
I thought I did a good job. They weren't quite straight, but I didn't imagine the Level Fairies were going to stop by and advise me on my transgressions.
My husband came home later that night. Did he notice that things sparkled, dust was gone, and you could actually see the dining room table? Of course not.
"If you're going to hang stuff," he said. "Why don't you wait until I'm home and use my level? These two are okay. This one is hung a little high. This one is lower than this one. Sure you don't want my level?"
Uh, yeah, I thought, but you sure don't want to know what I'd like to do with it.
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