the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I'm a compulsive cleaner. I will wallow in my own filth, just as happy as the next sow, until I--say--put something away. It's as though something in my brain turns on when I take that initial, innocent step. I'll be minding my own business then find myself wondering how this bra got left on the dining table, and...I'm off.

My mission today was to clean the house, currently overrun with a herd of dustbunnies, then brush the cats in the feeble hope that we can keep the hair level down to acceptable levels for two or more days. I ate a meal then went upstairs to do some laundry, since the cats have been shedding like they have the mange* (which might explain the sudden proliferation of hairballs hither and yon).

* There's no sign of any discomfort on their part. I think they're shedding because they've been stressed--first uprooted to live with us and Coffee in Chris's guest room for a few days during the Black Forest Fire, then left alone with a (very busy) occasional sitter while we went gallivanting to San Antonio. 

That was what I had planned. I knew it would be a full day, but there's much to be said for pacing oneself. (Oh...I had an official "family day" today, which means I have a four-day weekend; Mich, on the other hand, had to work.) My goal was simple: I would make the house livable again. I carried the bra and other (completely) random items upstairs from the main living area and put them away, then, while picking up scattered clothing (clothes hamper? what's that?), I noticed that the bed needed to be stripped, as it was not covered so much as cloaked with cat hair. And since I was doing pet fur laundry, I may as well wash the dog beds. Heaven knows that doesn't happen often enough. Then I realized I hadn't put away my toiletries from the recent road trip, and had to do that. Then there were a couple of items in the bedroom that needed to be carried to the library in the basement....

Before I knew what was happening, I had much of the clutter sorted and put away, and I stepped out to take out the trash. This involved throwing ramdom trashy things in the back of my truck and driving down to the gate, etc. En route, I realized I haven't bothered to dump the dirt out of my floorboard mats in years (this is not hyperbole), so I did that. They needed scrubbing, or at least a good brooming, so I tossed them in the back of the truck after dumping the dirt, which was so copious that I wouldn't be surprised if I now get better gas mileage. 

Hey. I told you I'm a pig. 

As I pulled back into the main (attached) garage, I noticed several pet items that I needed to carry back to the unattached garage.  As I carried the stuff from one garage to the other, I noticed (again) that we had a pile of bricks by the dog fence. I was tired of looking at them, so I got the wheelbarrow and made several trips to take the bricks around the house (and stack them neatly) in preparation for our firepit-building activities, sometime in the near future. 

Once I was finished with that, I found the nail-filled boards and such that Mich had stacked neatly in the corner of the regular garage from when she ripped the corner television stand out of the house a few months ago. They're good boards, but I was ready to admit we were never going to do anything with them, so I began another pile of garbage-bound items in my truckbed. Speaking of which, there were several items in the unattached garage that needed to go to The Great Garbage Pile in the Sky, so I went in and began collecting them. 

I increasingly avoid that garage, I've noticed, because...it's nasty. It was originally intended to be a work area, but over the years it evolved into a place where we could keep lawn equipment and tools and my motorcycle and generally hide our hoarding tendencies from prying eyes. Also, when Kermit was working on the fence, he rearranged a lot of stuff so he could store all the fence materials in there, and he'd naturally left the spare fence materials there when he left. For additional appreciation of what I was up against, you must know also that we have seasonal Miller moth infestations and I haven't cleaned that garage since we moved in (five years ago). In short, the unattached garage was a mess--the kind that makes you pray for a good fire so you won't have to clean it--and the whole thing was buried in several years' worth of moth carcasses.*

* How is it that they can get in but can't get back out? Help me here. I'm truly baffled. 

This is how I found myself rearranging stuff, putting it all in a logical order, and eventually breaking out the brooms and dust cloths. About three and a half hours into this operation, I realized that I had drunk no water since I began, and my 300 calorie Healthy Choice entree had worn off. I took another load of crap to the trash can, then swept out my pickup bed (because we're going to fetch our carpets tomorrow :) ). 

Just as I finished--well...the garage isn't pristine, but it's now downright welcoming, so I'll take that--the thunderstorm that had been threatening me all day finally cut loose. I came back inside with Coffee. I still needed to brush the cats, but I was filthy as Pigpen so I stepped into the shower just about the time our electricity went out.

Thunder apparently scares Coffee, because she came in the shower with me, whining, and stood there getting wet while I finished. 

I came downstairs, grabbed my huge water jug, and read poetry by kerosene lamp and candle light, with Coffee huddled on my feet. 

About an hour later, the lights came back on and I went to switch the laundry over. Only then did I realize how utterly exhausted I was. I had trouble holding my arms out to fold laundry, so I removed the clothes from the dryer and piled them neatly. I'll fold them another time. 

Then I did the dishes and baked pork chops for supper. 

The house still didn't get cleaned. 

I need to go back to work so I can rest. 

d