I’m so proud of myself: I cleaned something that really needed cleaning.
Really cleaning. Not like washing dishes, or rinsing the coffeepot before use, oh no.
Let me tell the long story. I will anyway, it’s my blog…
Hubby made pork chops for dinner. Before he cooked them, they were in a plastic bag. Which he thoughtfully left in the sink, crawling with icky pork juice. I held the lid of our bin out for him and he put it on the inside of the lid (keeps it from dripping on the trek from sink to garbage can, aren’t I clever). I took the contaminated plastic to the bin and promptly dumped it on the floor next to the bin. I made him pick it up since only one of us should have to wash our hands, clever me again. *snort*
Soooo… now I have gook on my floor, and all down the outside of the can, and need to get out the anti-bacterial spray and clean it up. Oh yes, so clever am I, with my clever methods of cleverly keeping nasty shite off my floor. So I cleaned it up, after snarking at him for not doing it himself, of course. He pretended he was just about to do it, of course. Ah, marriage…
But wait! There’s more. I didn’t toss the paper towel in the bin because it was barely used, after all. I left it on top of the bin, with the spray, to remind me of something else that needed cleaning: a place where one of the cats had barfed on our wooden stairs. I saw the distinctly not-clean spot
last week yesterday and it had been bothering me ever since.
Eventually I had to pee and actually walked through the kitchen first, and lo! I cleaned the ick off the stairs.
But…the paper towel still wasn’t really, really, nasty. Surely there was something else I needed antibacterial spray for, now that I’d bothered to bring it all the way upstairs?
Well, yes. Way back in…October, I think… Spot got accidentally locked in our box room. This is a tiny, tiny, room that is the place where I hide the plants the cats will eat and any junk I don’t know what else to do with. Spot got locked in there for a few hours, so he had a good old chomp on the greenery. Which, of course, he puked back up. I wiped up the chunks right away, but after that amount of time, there was a sludge dried to the wood that needed more than a wipe.
I go in there maybe once a week to water plants. And have, since October, or whenever it was. But I never cleaned up the sludge.
Until tonight! Go, me! I deserve another rum and Pepsi. Glad the pork chops are almost done, too; after all that work I need a snack.