The past two days have led me to be the most disgusted with my house I’ve ever been. It all started three days ago when I found a cockroach. The darn thing probably either came in on the groceries, or came home from college with my brother or me. At least that is the strong hope. At any rate we really wanted to see if there was a problem and since the thing was found in the kitchen (double yuck!) it seemed like cleaning there was a good bet.
In two days my mother and I have unloaded all of out cabinets, cleaned all the cabinets, drawers, and everything in them, decided what we were keeping and what we were yard saleing, and then reloaded all the drawers and cabinets. We’ve also took out all of mom’s chipped dishes and replaced them. The replacing of chipped dishes is actually what took up the majority of our time yesterday. Had to cart the heavy things up and down the basement stairs, and also ended up going through all the dishes in the same patter my mother had down there. Brought several others up as well, and they are now residing in the reorganized cabinets.
Today was worse. I started out with what we knew was going to be the hardest of what was left-under the sink. My policy under there was never to touch any place I hadn’t already cleaned, even if I was wearing gloves. There was a reason for this precaution, mainly that I think something exploded in there at some point in the past (apple butter is the most likely culprit). Whatever it was had literally covered the walls and the door and the floor in little gobs. This is to say nothing of the other filth under there. I tried to ask for hazard pay, but since I’m not getting paid for this anyways, it didn’t fly. I was down there for a couple hours while my mom washed the trashcan, the pan that holds the soaps, and then wired together the bin that holds aluminum cans we’re recycling. And after all that we still had a bunch of other cabinets to empty, clean reorganize and fill. I also cleaned behind and under the refrigerator, but that was more of an afterthought.
I also can’t tell you how many things are no longer in the cabinets of which we took them out. They’re all downstairs in the basement waiting to be inventoried, labeled, and generally gotten ready for the church’s yard sale this coming Saturday. And this is only the beginning. My mom and I were noting that we’ve gotten SO much more done with Dad not home (he’ll soon be moving out of Florida and on to either Mississippi or Alabama to be with the central command team down there. The goal is that no oil will get to any shore line under their command). And so we’re hoping to do more with the entire house while he’s gone. Here’s hoping.
Remember, being grossed out by cleaning your home is acceptable. Asking for combat pay is not.