Thursday, November 29, 2007

Nesting

Everyone in my family knows I am a terrible housekeeper. I always excuse my clutter by saying it is the sign of a busy and fulfilled life, not of abject laziness punctuated by the munching of peanut butter Captain Crunch while watching "Iron Chef." I was a terrible housekeeper until this week:

"Did you see my list?"

"What list?"

"The list I made for cleaning. A room a day for a week."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You have to look at the list."

"Roll up the rug in the livingroom?"

"Yes, so I can vacuum and mop the tile. You have to pull the entertainment center out from the wall too, and the sofa so I can get behind them with the vacuum and the mop."

"Buy new toilet seats?"

"Yes."

"We need new toilet seats?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Have you seen them?"

"Yes."

"We need new toilet seats."

"Why?"

"I don't know why, don't argue with the hormones of a pregnant woman. By the way, you have to wash the sliding door windows,too. Our godchild's fingerprints are still on them from June."

This is where The Rev. just looks at me and I begin to wonder if he really is happy with this transformation. I usually whine we need a maid. I give this one more day until I begin to annoy myself.

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