Sunday, June 05, 2005

A Blog of Bad Influence & Lots of Bitching About the Butcher

So, I've been reading Gone Feral, which is the continuing adventures of a mom of twins who's given up on such social conventions as, say, wearing a shirt. Today, I actually swept off the counters in my kitchen with the broom, figuring, what the fuck? I have to sweep the floor anyway. I think when you're literally sweeping your counters, you've gone feral. Also, I did that old add bleach to the mop water trick, thus ensuring that I didn't have to scrub too hard because all the dirt would just fade away from the bleach. So, the upstairs bathroom is clean, except that the tub has developed a protective layer of crud that comes off if you take your finger to it, but not if you use a sponge or a scrub brush. Of course, I am not taking my finger to the whole damned tub, which will just get dirty again. So, grow protective layer of crud. I'll take solace in the fact that underneath you is a clean tub. The kitchen is clean and the floor is even mopped. Two loads of dishes have been done and the stragglers are in the sink waiting for the dishwasher to be emptied after the floor is dry. I'm also thinking of tackling the back porch, which has become home to some coolant, an empty kitty litter container, and some dead plants. What, you may ask, is up my butt? I don't know. I never clean. Because it's fucking pointless. I scrub the tub and the Butcher gets in it and the dog hides from thunderstorms in it and people shit in the toilet and before you know it, everything needs cleaning again. Or the kitchen, which is small enough that you can stand in the middle of it and touch everything else in it. So, how does it get so dirty? Because the fucking Butcher and his yahoo friends will not throw their shit away. We have the chores split up. I do everything with linoleum; he does everything with carpet. Still, I try not to clutter up the carpeted areas. If he wants to leave his art shit all over the place, that's his business, because he has to clean it up. But the kitchen... do I get the same courtesy there? No, I don't. Most of the time I spend in the kitchen is devoted to throwing away his trash. Folks, you cannot physically get out of arm's reach of the trash can in our kitchen. It's not possible. So, why are there half-wet moldy corndog sticks in the bottom of the sink? Why is there a pizza box hidden behind the toaster oven? Why has someone put cheese wrappers in a cup on the stove? It has to be harder to find a place for all this shit on the counters than it would be to put it in the fucking garbage can. But, here's the other thing that pisses me off--and it's intimately connected to the problem of the trash all over the kitchen--he takes the garbage out every week. This is supposed to make up for the fact that the linoleum parts of the house are an ongoing and never ending pointless battle, but that the carpeted parts can really be taken care of once every week or ten days. And he does it, but he never, ever puts a new bag in the garbage can. Now, you'd think this wouldn't be a problem, because he also never puts garbage in the garbage can. EXCEPT there's always one nasty thing--a tissue full of snot, a paper towel wrapping a hairball--that he just tosses in there and so when I discover that there's no bag in the garbage can, I have to fish out that nasty thing. Seriously, America, what is the point of cleaning? It never ends. It's always gross and it's fucking thankless. When I get some money, I'm going to buy some land, build a little house out of cardboard and when it gets too dirty, I'm just going to set that motherfucker on fire. Then, I'll just build me a new one out of cardboard and repeat.


Blogger Sarah Bott said...

I worry you about you when you're on vacation. Alone in the kitchen with a broom.

6/05/2005 02:29:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

See, that's what I'm saying. Leaving me alone with nothing to do but clean is going to ensure that I'm surly and stuff that should not be swept gets swept. Let's not contemplate the poor microwave's future.

6/05/2005 05:17:00 PM  
Blogger Feral Mom said...

I am honored both to be among the Midwesterners you collect and to be "a blog of bad influence." Quite possibly the best press ever! So thanks.

While sweeping (and housecleaning in general) are not so much feral, sweeping the counter with a broom is certainly getting there. Depending, of course, on what exactly you are sweeping off the counter. Crumbs? Meh. Used tissues? Now we're talking. When it's free-standing boogers? Welcome to the fold, feral sister.

6/05/2005 08:35:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sadly, I don't think I'm going to get to be feral. At least not about cleaning. Dinner is the main communal meal at our house and I get nuts when everything isn't cleaned up and put away and washed off and made pristine again sometime between the end of dinner and bed time. I was all proud of myself for not going berserk when Huck Finn left the short cake pan to soak overnight so it would be easier to wash today (Quite reasonably, I might add).

Ten years of mainly living alone have made me very nuts indeed.

While all the cool kids are being feral I'm scrubbing the backsplash,


6/06/2005 12:25:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

Super Genius,

You may be the answer to my prayers (and, maybe, Loretta's). Have you considered renting yourself out to people who hate to clean? You could come to my house and make order out of chaos.

Then I wouldn't have to live in cardboard boxes.

6/06/2005 12:35:00 PM  
Blogger the Professor said...

My mother's youngest sister was the last child living with her parents. So, she had 2 bedrooms to choose from. She'd live in one until it was unbearable and then just move into the next one until it was unbearable. and then move into the next one. then the cycle would repeat. Of course, moving the things you want into another room in an organized manner is lots like cleaning.

Sure it never ends, but then cycles are all we have: eating, sleeping, shitting - we're just like infants but we punctuate our awake time in slightly more complicated ways.

6/06/2005 03:11:00 PM  
Blogger the Professor said...

Maybe I shouldn't aks the Butcher to take care of my stuff while I am gone. It probably lessens the possiblity of him doing even the little he usually does at your place.

Sorry. I'll be back soon. Maybe you and I can drink his thank-you gift ourselves.

6/06/2005 03:12:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

Did you get him a whole case of wine?! Shoot, in that case, we can drink some and he can drink some.

I do find it funny that he's apparently spread his mess over to your place as well.

6/06/2005 03:50:00 PM  
Blogger Yankee, Transferred said...

You made me laugh out loud.

6/06/2005 04:26:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Aunt B,

Unfortunately, I can't take up cleaning other people's homes because I also get irrate if things aren't maintained once I've cleaned and decluttered them. So unless people wanted me to call them and harass them about keeping thngs clean that wouldn't work.

I will clean your home and harass you over the phone! Nope, sounds a little unusual for a cleaning service.

Scrub my little dutch boy, scrub -


6/07/2005 12:05:00 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home