My mom can't come to the blog right now. I've locked her in the closet while I speak with the nice producer lady from the Clean House show. You know the one...where a crew of dedicated and very brave people go into a house that is a complete MESS and help the person get their proverbial head of of their...
(I'm sorry. I'm just a little frustrated by the lack of homekeeping skills around here lately. I've tried my best to be a force for good and gently encourage my mo-ther to pick up a Swiffer, but alas, she has not done so as of this post.)
I suppose that this calls for DRASTIC measures. Come with me, won't you, as I walk you through the HOME 'O FILTH in the attempt to SHAME my mo-ther into getting off of her big fat white hairy...
(See? I'm just so upset that I've resorted to profanity again.)
First up is the bedroom. Here's a pic of the rumpled, slept-in, messy bed that she finally hauled herself out of at 10 o'clock this morning:
I mean, come on! How hard would it have been to pull that hot crock pot full of mess up and tidy the pillows? But leaving it like this for God and everybody to see? Unacceptable.
Now I'll take you into the laundry room, where the basket full of clean clothes has been sitting. For a week. A week. For one whole week this basket has been sitting on top of the washing machine.
Do you want to know what's REALLY stupid about this? Whenever Mommie Dearest needs something from this basket, she walks all the way from our bedroom to the laundry room (across the full length of the house, I might add), and she takes what she needs from the basket! The basket that's been sitting on the washing machine for a week! She can't pick up the basket that's been sitting on the washing machine for a week and then CARRY IT BACK TO THE BEDROOM?!
Two weeks ago she finished her Christmas shopping and she carefully "staged" everything on the dining room table:
I already know that my presents are out in the garage in a big bin labeled "Santa's Workshop...Do Not Peek" because I went out there and peeked. (Oh, and I'm furious to report that there was NOT a Zhu Zhu in that bin. Did the man not get my fax? What does a puppy have to do to get some Zhu Zhu love around here? Who do I have to ---- to get a decent Christmas present?)
(Yep, I'm pretty sure that one is going to send me straight to the Naughty list...
So in preparation of wrapping all of the fabulous gifts I'm sure she bought Aunt Chrissy, she went into the guest room and fished out all of the wrapping paper and bows and such and then SHE JUST LEFT IT ALL ON THE FLOOR IN THERE!
Does she think that the gifts are all going to spontaneously jump into their wrappings? Is she waiting for the elves to come put the paper on things in the middle of the night? What seems to be the mental block that this woman has about putting things in their proper places and/or writing a list and then...wait for it....actually doing the stuff that's on the list!
I think the kitchen is the worst, though. Aunt Chrissy was here all damn weekend with that snot cousin of mine and by the time the two of them came to their senses, they had totally DESTROYED my organizational system in there:
I will confess that I just now piled all of that stuff up in front of the coffee maker so that my coffee addicted mo-ther will be forced to put this stuff away before tomorrow morning. (Knowing her, however, she'll just shove it all aside and still manage to get her morning fix.) Damn Mommie.
I got desperate enough last night that I went into my toy box and started scattering stuff all over the floor so that she would step on something in the dark and wake the hell up already and clean this place up:
I think I miscalculated, though, since most of the stuff I pulled out was stuffed animals, and all they did was squeak when she stepped on them. (This, of course, scared the beejeebies out of me in the wee hours, so I took the opportunity to water the drapes.)
I've been sitting here trying to determine where it all went wrong, but I just can't seem to put my paw on it. Could it be latent depression over the fact that she muffed the decorating this year? Does she feel bad because she didn't spend the national debt on gifts like she normally does? Is she disappointed that she's got NO shot of a kiss under the mistletoe? What could it be?
Mysteries abound, but I'm burning daylight trying to figure it out. I'm going to go open the closet door now and strap some cleaning supplies to the old lady in the hopes that she will finally get the hint. Pray for me. This is not going to be easy.
I do hope that you are all having a wonderful Tuesday wherever you are!
With love from your pal,