I'm almost done...
I've almost got everything done, cleaning-wise. Dishes, laundry, animals and all their assorted crap...just about everything except the car. Which is a white Firebird that is currently COVERED with brown specks of flyshit. What the hell do flies eat, anyway? Superglue? You can't get that shit off without a sander, fer Chrissake.
Anyway...
That's where I've been. Cleaning. It's not too bad, though, considering what I'm up against.
Let's start with Petey, the parakeet. He's pretty easy to deal with except that he gets feathers EVERYWHERE. Next, we have the cats-Erica, Lamar, Olsen, Dale, Tony, Norman, Wheezer, Ozzy, Buster and Stinkdoodle. Their job is to distribute the feathers to each room, while ram-assing around, knocking stuff over and eating, sleeping and pooping in one of several catboxes I have to pick every 92 seconds. Then we have Mr. Mouse, the rat. He's pretty cool, too except that he feels it's necessary, for some reason, to have litter (cedar shavings) around his whole cage, like a moat, or something. The kittens (the last four) also distribute that to several rooms after having gotten up there to watch him in apparent wonder. Then, there are the two (dumb) dogs. Their job is to shed, scratch themselves, distribute tasty morsels of debris around the house.... like empty cat food cans and empty Cheeto's and cereal bags, after they've eaten the contents and have to go out every 5 (fickin') minutes. They also feel obligated to BARK every time April-the outdoor dog-barks. April barks at everything. People, cars, trucks, grass, trees, wind...and probably her own farts.
Then, we get to the people. Currently there are four of us. Myself (the one who should AT LEAST get a maids 'outfit' outta this), Eric- the love of my life, George-the soon to be ex, and Eric Jr. who, by the way hasn't done anything stupid...(yet). Eric-TLOML- can not come in from outside without depositing at least a half a bale of hay and straw all over the floor. He does this by removing clothes. First the big ole barn boots, fulla cow poop, dirt, mud-whatever's out there. They MUST go in the doorway to the mudroom. Not into the room, itself...gotta be the doorway. Sometimes, for added effect, he'll leave his pants there too. Next off are the (most disgusting) socks in the living room. I've finally gotten it through to him to turn the icky damn things right side out. I almost lost a finger in one of 'em once. (I swear I've heard them growl before...) Then, I can pretty much track his movements through the house by the rest of his clothes making a trail to the kitchen. From the kitchen, to the livingroom, where I find the dishes. Heading back to the kitchen with the dishes, I find empty dip cans, half full dip cups (EEEWWW!!!), baseball caps and out of the pockets of his work pants-candy wrappers, nuts, bolts, milker plugs, wrenches, nails and wads of papertowels. All sprinkled liberally with hay and straw. George is pretty low maintenence. He just won't empty an ashtray until he gets the pyramid of butts at least two feet tall. Eric Jr. is no problem either. He has the same grody sock thing as his Dad, though. And, the kid never remembers to hold the handle down on the toilet, so consequently, I have too much information about just how big a turd can get.
Sigh.
The only way I can get it COMPLETELY done, is to start early. I'm awake all night, almost every night because Eric is so dead tired, he just cannot get up in the morning. Even after I get him out of bed, all he does is stagger to the living room and falls asleep in his chair. Poor guy. I HATE having to be the one to make him get up, but his stupid boss docks him if he's not out there by 5:00am. After I get him in gear, I go to bed. I don't sleep long. I'm taking ephedra-based crap to loose weight (again-I dropped 75 lbs in about four months two years ago). So, I get up, get coffee, get on here, read, let the dogs in and out 62 times, feed the kittens their canned food, run errands, etc. If I keep up with the house after I get it CLEAN clean, it's pretty easy. But, every so often, I feel like shredded shit and it goes a day. Then another. Then several more. Then I can't stand it and I clean it. All. I have to start early, like I said. Best is sometime between 6 and 8 pm. I get all dishes done first. Then I do the livingroom, where the guys are gonna want to be, watching wrestling (shudder). If I'm lucky, I get that finished before they congregate. Vacuuming and all. Then, while they're in there, I go do the rest of the house. I try to do the big shit first, up to and including the vacuuming, before people start going to bed. After they do, I finish the laundry and do any stray dishes. Then I get on here and do this until Eric is out the door (which he is now), then I go to bed.
Is it any wonder I'm insane?
Insane, maybe. Stupid, no. After having spent 30-some years living an "exciting" (read: chaotic, unpredictable, upheaved, miserable, lonely and pretty much screwed up) life, I'll take this and love it. Sometimes, I get bored, sometimes I get restless, but I do appreciate the sedateness of it all. And, I get scared it could all change. BUT-the Eric and I part won't, so I know I'll be okay-no matter what. Maybe sometimes I don't know what to do with Eric, but I do know that I don't know what I'd do without him. Except die. Which is what I plan to do. If I come to that.
Which leads me to the next post-two death-related questions...
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