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Yesterday was a flurry of cleaning.  And lots of it.  I admit it.  I’m a horrible, horrible, housewife (though I cook and keep the kids alive) and I hate housework.  I do the bare minimum to keep the place passible, but it’s by no means something you see out a magazine.  There’s plenty around here that hasn’t been done in far too long that seriously needs some attention.  Like the cabinet faces were in need of a serious scrub down.  The coat rack corner is in need of a serious purging.  A hutch needs to be decluttered.  You know.  Stuff that NEEDS to be taken care of on a semi-regular basis, never does.  I’m too busy trying to keep up with the immediate problems of toys laying in the middle of the kitchen floor, with wheels, ensuring someone to his/her death.  Or scrubbing a whole wall colored with pencil because someone let the baby take a pencil to naptime with her. This actually happened Sunday.  So cabinet faces, can usually wait.  And do.

But Sunday it occurred to me that Monday was one month until Thanksgiving.  One month!

So, Monday is my housework day anyway, since after a weekend of working, the house is in seriously bad shape.  I just decided to up it a notch.  Thanksgiving is in one month and I could use every one of those 31 days (October is a thirty one day month) to make sure this place is presentable.  After all, we’re hosting not only Thanksgiving this year, but Christmas as well.  Might as well start now and try to lessen the load the closer to the holidays we get.  God knows I don’t need any more stress on me that I already have at that time of year.

Paige walked in from school yesterday, took one look at the kitchen and said, “Whoa!  What are YOU getting ready for?”

The apocolypse, I wanted to say snottily.  But instead I replied, “Nothing.  This is the way the house should look ALL the time.”

And don’t you know, Paul took two steps into the house after a class he had yesterday, left a box of matches on the counter, along with a used paper towel, and then chucked a whole bunch of stuff onto my recently de-cluttered kitchen table that I had found under 17 tons of junk mail.   And this is why I usually don’t bother.  If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.  Until the day you look at the house and something snaps.

So, kitchen was tackled in every sense of the word yesterday.  And a lot of the dining room. There’s two main areas of the dining room left to conquer, and then onto other areas of disaster that should only be attacked only with the aid of FEMA.

We also took care of the windows and the chandeliers in both the dining room and kitch area.  I have no idea when the last time I cleaned either of those, but I know it’s been far too long when I clean the chandelier’s and I am utterly enthralled with the light bouncing off the ceiling around them.  Or when Paul finishes cleaning the outside of the windows, and I’m literally squinting like a vampire fresh out of a coffin with all this light filtering in from everywhere.

I guess I’ll do the toy corner of the living room today for….oh, I don’t know.  The gajillionth time.  Because lifting the lid of the toy box is far too back-breaking.  Instead we shall chuck all the toys on top of it, and even if they’re all falling over onto the floor, we shall pronounce it clean.

Pray for me.  I’m going in armed only with a bottle of citrus scented cleaner and my will.

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