I have to clean my house. I hate to clean my house. It's not that I don't like having a clean house. I really do. It just seems so pointless to go to all that work only to have it all undone at the same time I'm working so hard.
I live in the desert and I have a 4 year old. If you have neither of these factors working against you, you can't relate to what I'm complaining about.
The wind blows in the desert. All the time. I'm not talking about a nice breeze. I'm talking about wind that blows trees over. The kind of wind that makes non-desert dwellers seek shelter. This same wind creates an endless supply of dust. I dust the living room then the dining room, the living room again, move on to the bedroom, the bathroom, the dining room again, back to the living room... it's an endless cycle. I give up after a while and move on to picking up.
My daughter is a 4 year old hurricane. You know she is coming, it's imminent. She is one of nature's most destructive forces and there is no stopping or controlling her. Try as you might to minimize the damage, it is coming.
Everything is a toy to her. She also likes to make piles. Her stuffed animals get piled as high as she can reach. While I'm corraling these she's in the living room removing all pillows and cushions from the couch and loveseat and making those into a pile she can leap into like a pile of fall leaves. Picking up the pillows, I get after her to quit pulling the stuffed animals back out. She disappears. I have won this battle. Yay me! Pillows and cushions neatly arranged and stuffed animals no longer covering the floor. I am pleased.
I make my way to my bedroom where I discover she has pulled every article of clothing she can reach from the closet and dresser and made a pile. Are those my good clothes on the bottom? Where did she find yogurt? Argh! Now I have laundry. *oh goody* Put the clean clothes away which doesn't take long since many have yogurt on them now. Gather up the yogurt covered clothing and head off to put these in the washing machine.
On my way to the laundry room I slip in a puddle of water on the bathroom floor. My precious little water sprite has been practicing her water magic. She's not very good at controlling the water... much of it is splattered on the mirrors and counters. The floor has an inch of water covering it. Get the mop and towels. Windex, where's my windex? In the kitchen.
Passing by the living room I see a pile of pillows on the floor. "Pick those up!" I yell as I continue to the kitchen. Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Now what? There is a torn bag of potatoe chips scattered across the kitchen floor. I grab the broom and sweep it up. Get the windex and head back to the bathroom.
My daughter is leaping from the empty couch to the pillow pile. Squealing with delight and grinning from ear to ear. "Pick those up and put them back on the couch! Now!!" I stop to help her put them back up in the right order, largest in back, smallest in front. "Don't do this again, please."
Back to the bathroom. I finally get it cleaned up. The floor is dry. The counters are cleaned. The mirrors sparkle. I'm ready for a break. As I turn to leave the bathroom I trip over a pile of yogurty clothes. Oh yeah.... laundry.
There are few things in life I detest more than laundry. I can't think of any right now, but I know there's something. Ah ha! Dental appointments. There's one. Although the waiting room has no piles for me to clean so right about now I'm thinking a dental appointment might not be so bad.
Laundry.... Ok, to the washing machine I go. I forgot to take a wet load out and put it in the dryer. How long has that been there? Yogurt clothes on the floor, I reset the washer and rewash the clean clothes that have been hiding in it.
Walking back through the bathroom I glance in the mirror. What's that? I've got yogurt on my shirt. Strip it off, toss it in the laundry pile on the floor and head to the bedroom for a clean shirt. In the bedroom I find that my daughter has stripped my bed and made a pile with the pillows, blankets and sheets at the foot of my bed. Pulling on a clean shirt I reach for the pile, grumbling to myself.
Hurricane Cutie runs from the room, laughing with euphoric glee, off to strike another sector.
It is one against one and I am out numbered.
Oh forget it...