Did the Miraculous, Now I'll Try the Impossible

Somehow I managed to finish my routine cleaning of our house by mid-week this time around. I have no idea whatsover how I managed that, and I'm afraid to think too hard about it lest I jinx it. Sure, I've spent a lot more time at home this week ... like almost all of it ... while we are trying to cross the last threshold of potty training. This means no grocery store, no mass market stores, and no sneaking off for a fast food lunch. So, admittedly, I have had more time physically in the house to do the cleaning. On the other hand, as I said, we are at the verge of the last threshold of potty training, so I have spent quite a bit of time running to and from the potty with Toddler, sitting on the floor of the bathroom waiting for the "Great Poop Off" and rinsing out "oops" from the big boy underwear.

Needless to say, all this bathroom activity has affected my brain somewhat. I'm in a heightened state of alert, accompanied by excessive boredom. We've had a lot of "thrill of victory, agony of defeat" moments this past week, sometimes at the same time. Even better, Girl Cat decided to join in the fun, just in case I didn't have enough stuff to clean up.

So, all in all, somehow I'm ahead of the game and I'm not going to question how. I'm just going to call it a miracle and go with it.

Now, what does one do to top a miracle? I guess my only choice is to try to move on to accomplish the impossible. I could: (1) clean my laundry room, (2) clean my basement, (3) clean my bedroom, or (4) clean the garage.

Each one of those options scares the crap out of me. We have consolidated all the "pack-ratty" stuff we have accumulated into those three spaces. (I'm conveniently not counting the dining room table, where I have laid out all the photographs from the past 9 years that are not yet in albums. That isn't considered "pack rat." That is a "project" born from "procrastination" and is something different entirely. But I don't want to tackle it, either.)

Every hour or so, I walk into one of those rooms, completely intending to apply my "Two Square Feet" method and make progress.

One minute later, I walk out defeated. Some jobs are too big, even two square feet at a time, and I am sure there is a book around that needs me to read it ... or something.

But, you see, we have this big event coming up in May called the "garage sale". The "garage sale" is my annual opportunity to try to convince the rest of my household to move things out of our happy home and into someone else's home. This way no one has to think longingly of their old newspaper collection and wonder whether it is lonely at the recycling plant. The "garage sale" is my motivator to sneak back into the room and try again. I'll just take the first thing I lay my hand on, bring it back to the safety of the kitchen, and decide what to do with it. Even if the room grows another piece of junk to replace it, I will hopefully have another piece of garage sale treasure, or possibly something else to keep the garbage man busy.

My first few forays into the garage yielded: one winter coat, three pairs of shoes that still fit, and seven empty boxes.

My first few forays into the bedroom yielded: Four seriolithograph prints by famous artists (SCORE!), a clay pot no one has ever seen before (????), a big giant glass bowl, and three nails Darling Husband took out of the carpet strip from Toddler's room.

My first foray into the basement yielded an empty trashbag and a black foam ball none of us recognize. Toddler now has the ball, and I have decided to use the trashbag.

My first foray into the laundry room yielded several scraps of fake fur we once used to try to make a toy for the cats, a puppet from 1975, and a black foam tube that is obviously a piece of something larger, we just don't know what.

What does all this mean? Well, the message is no great surprise. It means the rooms still look just as bad, I am still bored, and I still can't leave the house. Hopefully we will find the magic poop button soon, or I will have to start describing lint trap cleaning in future blog posts for lack of anything else to talk about. (Trust me, I am as bored about this idea as you are. The difference is, you are reading it, and I am doing it, and I'm not really sure which is worse.)