I’m de-lighted (Christmas lights have once again been removed from my home without injury) to announce that as of this writing I’m spending my first day home alone since December 18, 2008.
Since I received a package of chocolate bon-bons for Christmas, it’s mighty tempting to take up residence on the couch and consume the whole bag. But I’m suffering from a head injury and to be quite honest I’m afraid to sit still. I could fall asleep and . . . I’ve got a bit of a headache, and some dizziness, but through slightly blurred vision I was able to make out two pupils of equal size. My bell has been rung, so I’ll busy myself with this until I’m feeling steadier.
Shortly after Christmas, I got the feeling my entire home needed to be de-cluttered. I passed through each room, garbage bag in hand, and removed the gift packaging strewn about the entire house. With trash removed and new gifts taking up space, I then searched out all the items that were no longer wanted/needed. That brings me to today, where upon looking around I notice a good deep-cleaning is needed in a variety of spots.
This pattern repeats itself annually. I always get the spring cleaning bug a little early, and it works well because when spring blossoms the last place I want to be is indoors cleaning.
Getting back to how I injured myself, I must confess that I have a variety of housekeeping mishaps that always amuse me in hindsight. This one will be no different, but I’ll probably wait for the bump on my noggin to disappear before I laugh.
I was vacuuming the lower stairs with the hose and stair tool while the vacuum rested on the landing above me. I’m seasoned at this type of work and in my 14 years of doing it I’ve never had a problem. However, I was a wee bit aggravated over a morning-time encounter with one of my offspring and was probably not giving the job the attention it required. In my zeal, I pulled too hard on the hose and the 22 lb. (I weighed it) vacuum came crashing down on my head. Ouch!
I’m now very interested in the nine pound Oreck vacuum that I regularly hear advertised. (I’m living with one teenager, one frightfully close, and a third not far behind. I’m told it could be years before the aggravation subsides. Note to Jeff: If you want to spend your golden years with me, a lighter vacuum is essential.)
As amusing as the above may sound, that event doesn’t come close to trumping the day I got my finger stuck in the fabric softener dispenser of the washing machine. I stood joined with the washer for quite some time before I fully appreciated my options which included waiting for someone to come home and call the fire dept., or suffering what medical folks call a “de-gloving” injury. Painfully, I opted for the latter. I wasn’t fully dressed. Hey, I didn’t want the bleach I was using to clean the grime ruining even my nasty house-cleaning attire.
The man who loves me in spite of my homemaking foibles offered to pay an outside cleaning service back before the kids were all in school. I refused because I’d want to clean before they came, and what would be the point? He upped my life insurance. Now, as I age and get over myself and the mess my clan makes, I’m beginning to rethink that decision. But the kids are all in school now, and I supposedly have it maid . . . someone should have cleaned up before I got here.
© 2009 Natalie Whatley