over the inside stuff. But alas, there will still be plenty of inside stuff that needs doing.
Today inside took precedence over outside. It’s gets to the point where I can no longer handle living in a fouled nest. My tolerance is lower than Pete’s. He enjoys living under the illusion that this place is a man cave. I just cannot handle it, the dust billowing around my legs, the sticky cupboards, the glop on the refrigerator handles. And I can’t handle not being able to find what I’m looking for. It’s particularly bad when I’m sick and I’m the only one here and the sun is shining on every single dirty surface in the place.
Last night, I took a shower. Almost enough said, about the crud in the tub. Then I went to bed in dirty sheets. So today I insisted that we do a crisis based cleaning. To do this was a huge sacrifice of time for me. I had planned on getting Raudi out for a morning ride, but, oh well, this didn’t happen. Hopefully there will soon be other riding days. Hopefully. The wind is of course picking up again. Grr grr grr.
Of course, getting this place clean in four hours, with two people going at it, was an impossibility. It’s still a mess. But it is livable. I’m going to keep at it and continue the work, doing 1 ½ hours’ worth each day. Tomorrow I’m going to wipe down the kitchen and kitchen addition cupboard doors with Murphy’s Oil Soap.
Such a mundane subject to write about – but one that I’m sure is going to strike a chord in my thousands of readers. I often picture them out there, in their very clean dwellings, reading what I have written, and in this particular instance, reading this. They’re smiling, going uh uh. They all have clean homes. Their places do not get dirty. My readers are not slobs to the core. No, my readers are very tidy and mindful people. They clean up after themselves.
As I write this, Pete’s putting clean sheets on the bed. For the past five nights I’ve woken up drenched in sweat, so I knew it was time for a change. He had to give Ryder, who was hanging out in the vacuum cleaner hose attachment, the book. Service animals – you’d think that animals with such titles would be adept at cleaning. Sad to say, not around here.
Next: 65. 3/6/17: A Wing and A Prayer