A professional cleaner scrubbed my house yesterday. It’s so
clean I want to freeze-dry it to prevent cat fur, dust, and me from messing it
up. I’m tempted to check into a hotel until my house sells so it always looks “move-in
ready.”
This morning, rather than fix myself eggs, toast and coffee,
I ate breakfast out so the egg smell wouldn't linger for the 1 pm showing. My car
is starting to look like a Hoarder’s episode because I am stowing stuff that usually
gets shucked onto tables and counters.
Last night, after Carl the cleaner left, I was so inspired
by the pristine condition of my house I straightened closets, thus nearly filling
a trash bag with dried up hand lotion bottles and half empty shampoos I forgot I
had.
Rather than fold the sheets that are in the dryer, thus
filling up the now tidy hall closet, I left them in there, hence leaving wet
towels in the washer until I come home later. Normally the clumps of grass my
mower leaves doesn't bother me, but today I raked the yard to remove the clods
of grass.
I’m even sleeping differently. Since I now make my bed every
day, I tucked the top sheet into the bottom of the bed when I changed the sheets
last night. I like my bedding loose because I roll around a lot at night, and I
want my bed clothes to move with me. But it’s easier to stage a bed if all the
blankets and sheets are secured. Now I sleep like a mummy, which could explain
the weird dreams. Like the one I had right before I woke up this morning where
I gave Hilary Clinton the finger. In the dream I meant it as a joke, but she
was not amused. Obviously I haven't established enough of a personal bond with
Mrs. Clinton to make inappropriate gestures, even in jest.
I hid my favorite pillow in the closet because it doesn’t
lie flat enough on the bed. It’s one of those side sleeper pillows with a dip
in the center. I placed a decoy under the one of the shams. After making the
bed, I also hid the ocean.
I don’t know about you, but I need white noise in order to
sleep, so I sleep next to the ocean every night, except this one is from the
coast of Radio Shack.
Most of the crap cluttering my dresser (deodorant, jewelry
trees, and hand lotion) is stashed inside the drawers, along with the stack of
books that usually forms a precarious tower on my night stand.
I didn't spray my hair this morning since Carl successfully made
my unfortunate choice of white grout on my bathroom tile sparkle like new. My
hair never looks great anyway, so forgoing spray won’t make a difference. I
scan the floors for stray cat fur clumps and place those in the trash. I empty
all the small cans into kitchen trash can and change the bag. I’ve become my
own hotel maid.
Now would be a good time to invite people over, but I don't anyone
in my house to mess it up. Most of my friends are like me; people who put our
feet up and relax in our homes.
I want a visit from Carl!! Lol
ReplyDeleteI know! I want him to move in with me.
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