I was walking down the hall this morning when it hit me.
No. Please, no. I have to wake up the kids, I slept a few minutes late, this is not a good time to have to be cleaning up dog poop.
One big whiff, and it didn't matter. Fabulous.
My dogs are pretty good about their crates. It's just really important that they have no late night snacks or I get a present. Last night, as I put Shadow in, I thought I heard her chewing on something, but I was a little groggy and dismissed it. I figured that there wasn't anything on the floor that would pose a problem.
I know better than that. I've swept the floor enough times to know that not everything makes it into the mouths. Sometimes, it gets "saved for later" and not put in the fridge.
It's okay to say "eewwww" at this point. I do.
Anyway, Ben was an angel and he made some waffles for himself and for Ryan, so I could take care of the mess.
I'm working on the crate and decide that I should really, get out the vacuum and get the floor behind it. Hair, hair everywhere. I should go into business making doggie wigs. I finish the crate, collect all the trash in the house, make my trip outside to the trash cans....
Oh, it's trash day. Roll them out to the curb.
Once inside, I decided that while I'm back here, behind the crate, I should pull out the couch. Straighten the slipcover, as it always seems to be attached to someone's butt as they get off the couch and never stays nice for long. Then I vacuum the area in front of the wall unit, where every little crumb seems to find its way. Then I remembered the sight of what was under the loveseat the other night when Nolan lifted it while looking for something else. (It had been so traumatic, I'd blocked the memory.)
I look at the slipcover covering this, and decide to throw it in the wash.
Steeling myself for whatever I might find, I move the loveseat out and (steady, now) look down. A few m&ms. YuGiOh cards. More hair. Movie case. Ugh. So many crumbs, I'm surprised I don't support an ant colony.
I'm working away, vacuum at the ready, and get into the corner that is next to the loveseat under an end table. Don't look, just vacuum.
What is that on the windowsill? Vacuum the window sill. Then the blinds. Hmm, I should wipe that down...
I'm admiring my handiwork, and wincing at the realization (once again) that I need to replace these sunburned blinds. Sometime.
As I reach for the vacuum cord to put it away, I notice the blinds in the dining area. Guess it wouldn't be fair to not take care of these, so I start vacuuming them. I'm stunned at how the children manage to splash up so high on these. What are they doing, playing quarters with KoolAid when I'm not looking?
Is that dust on the back of the microwave? Will the cord reach? I'm in the kitchen anyway, why not the blinds over the sink, too? Do you, Spazilla, really want to risk that? I risk it.
I catch myself eyeing the fridge, but I talk myself out of it. I'm not pulling that puppy out unless they are installing a new one. Or someone more strapping than I am is here to help out. Spazilla draws the line.
I still need to clean the blinds splashed with eau-de-KoolAid, but it's a start.
I'm okay with it. A win, no matter how ugly, is still a win.
You know how some people have plaques outside their door, or inside their houses, like "Home Sweet Home" or something like that? I know now what mine should say:
"Anna's House: Losing the battle to dust, children, and pet hair since 1993."