Wow, Monday again. How did that happen? Seems like just yesterday I was doing 12 loads of laundry and having a crazy good time scrubbing my kitchen up to board-of-health standards.
You know that when I get frustrated I clean, right? If you looked at my house, you would assume that I am a very unfrustrated person and you would be wrong... oh so very wrong because I tend to become VERY focused in my cleaning. I spent an hour or two just on that little cubby on the fridge door where you get your ice and water. Does that have a name? And the sink... I only lasted about 15 minutes in the Flylady program but I did gather that a clean sink is supposed to be akin to an extreme mental-state makeover, so I used an old toothbrush around the faucet and the drains and sloshed in this and that until is shone! Shined? Whatev. Then I had to use it and it became just another downer in my clean/use/repeat life.
Oh, the source of my frustration? That would be the lone Y-chromosome in my house.
One day late last week, Homer started walking around the house examining it structurally. Looking at one side of a wall... then the other... tapping here, kicking there... looking at the ceiling and mumbling hmm and mm-hmm. I know he expected me to ask what he was up to... so I didn't. I couldn't.
My brain was done for the day so all I said was 'So help me God, if I come home tomorrow and find you have knocked out a wall or two, I will leave and never come back." Truthfully, I would never do that because my car could not even hold all my shoes, but I might change the locks the next time he ran to the H'Depot for supplies.
Then it was Friday and he spent the entire day making pumpkin people - a guy with an arrow through his pumpkin head (complete with ketchup blood) and a guy bending over and showing the world his pumpkin moon and generally festive-izing the front of the house. What? All of your husbands don't do this?
Okay, the boat didn't get moved - my ONE request - but the house was structurally intact so I felt safe for another day.
Then Saturday it all spilled - Homer's grand plan for an addition to the house. That's when I took up my toothbrush and started scouring... all the while repeating my mantra 'MUST not kill him, must NOT kill him... must not KILL him...' You get the idea. Not that I wouldn't love to have extra space in my house. Heck, I would sell my spotted soul for an attic and extra closet space.
So 'Wtf, Jane?' you're saying. Sounds win/win, you think. Well, you probably haven't lived with a gaping hole in the side of your house for those three months we call December, January and February. Okay, I haven't either, but I can see see the future if this were to take the well-traveled road of many of his other projects. That would be the well-traveled road that stops in the middle of nowhere... right there before the uncrossable river that a person who had PREPLANNED would have known about.
I won't bore you/depress me with a list of the reasons I have to be worried. But if you come looking for new posts and find nothing but the smell of bleach and burning brain, I want you to know why.
16 comments:
You clean when you're frustrated? Join the club. My coworker called me the other night all in a tizzy about an incident at work and there was all this commotion in the background. She explained she was cleaning, she does that when she's ticked off. I said, "You too?"
I do the same thing. Cleaning out cupboards and drawers keeps me from actually slamming Wards head in them. It's my version of anger management!
Uh-oh.
Trepidation is fully justified- can you hide his tools & H-Depot card until he gets over it?
Opposite reaction here- I get frustrated when I clean- usually because it's a Y-chromosone's mess :-P
When I'm really ticked, I- er, um- toot, for want of a more dignified word; don't know why- probably genetics, 'cause I know Mother & Dad use to reak-up the house when they argued.
I have a floor that needs scrubbing and I'll let you do it FOR FREE. Because I'm a good friend.
Oh, for that character trait that would make me clean away my frustration! Truly, I envy you that.
Analytical, more right-brained than she thinks, loyal, adventurous. Go to my site to see what I am talking about! g
First couple of paragraphs just...don't...compute.
But I got the rest (thank somebody) and as the fog cleared from my brain and the words 'bleach' and 'scrub' exited my thoughts, I thought I read something about 'expansion' and 'big gaping hole in the house' and I started getting excited. And then you killed it with the freekin' bleach and - wait - burning brains, that's cool...
Where was I? Oh yeah, good luck with the home makeover.
nodoper
You are talking to the woman that has concrete floors in her bedroom and has had for uh, two or three years? Hold your grown woman! Stand strong!
Oh, so that's why my last house was immaculate while my marriage was flushing down the toilet!!! On second thought, I don't think I'm make myself better to attract better men - I don't want to be married!!!
No, I don't put my photos in albums anymore. The ones that are completed are old, like when my 32 year old daughter as a year old. I stopped putting pictures in albums when we started downloading pictures to hard drives. Then I lost my hard drive AND pictures. I know, me, an IT person should know better. Oh well.
I sure hope you don't have a gaping hole anytime soon in your house. And especially since the holidays are approaching!!!
First of all: I need to see pictures of those pumpkins. Especially the Steve Martin pumpkin.
Secondly: I lived for two years cooking on a hotplate in my living room because my husband was going to build me the DREAM KITCHEN. Never again. Never. Ever. Again. He taps a wall and I'm reaching for the nailgun.
More measured than impulsive...darn tootin'! As a rule, that is........g
No - anything but house renovations. Just say no.
Must.....distract.....Homer. The next time he comes home, be by his boat rubbing the bottom and looking at it quizzically. He'll have to ask what you're looking at - won't be able to help himself. Make the "I'm not sure" noise, cluck your tongue a little, and say something like, "Oh, I don't know. Something just doesn't seem right..." Let your voice trail off into vagueness and then just go into the house and get busy on something. He'll spend HOURS trying to figure out what you saw. By the time he gives up he'll have forgotten about the add-on. And if he hasn't, at least it'll be closer to spring. Now, granted, I've never been married but this is similar to what I do with Timber when I'm tired of throwing the tennis ball.
Sounds like he needs a hobby. Men need hobbies. Hobbies that don't include smashing holes in walls. Maybe he could take up tole painting?? ;)
Maybe you could talk him into waiting 'til summer? Just trying to help here. If that doesn't work and you clean everything you've got, you can start over here. I'm clearly not a very frustrated person. Well, in SOME ways... but it doesn't cause a cleaning frenzy ;)
Having to stand in line tomorrow is my punishment for never voting. I didn't know we could mail them in until I read that you had. Hubby was the one who registered us ... Of course I blamed him for not figuring it out! :)
Eyw, your husband is home without a job? Geez, I'd kill mine...I mean, he's not making any money at his job, but at least he still hangs out there all day...!! The sorry thing is, when I get frustrated, (always) I quit cleaning.... so as of late, my home is one big pig-stye. I'd give plenty to be a stress-cleaner!
p.s. We lived in YouTah for 3 years, and I think Autumn there is the prettiest of anywhere I've lived!! The Wasatch range rocks!
Yep, sounds like me. My house sparkles when I'm pissed about something. And I get reeeealy quiet.
Anyway, you COULD send 'him' out to direct traffic on the freeway for a bit. That'd give him something else to do. :)
Sure hope he thinks twice about that remodel/addition job especially THIS time of year. You could end up with 'more snow' than you'd ever want. But then, you wouldn't have to squeeze that monster Xmas tree out the front door if your wall is missing, now would ya'?
Sorry Jane. Didn't mean to pour salt in the perverbial wound. Here's hoping Homer finds something else to occupy his 'off time'.
Good luck with that!
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