Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Things I Discovered That I *Never* Needed To Find


My house is an unmitigated disaster. I have no idea how it got that way. I mean, on the surface it all seems fine. Though, I will say, about 10 years ago I saw some episode of Dateline or 20/20 or one of those shows and they brought in scientists with lights and sprays and goggles and stuff and they looked at the average "clean" kitchen and it. was. horrifying. It looked like a crime scene of gross and bacteria and I was pretty sure that not only was I turning off the TV, but I needed to shower in bleach and then set my house on fire.

Even to this day, it gives me the shivers. Nanny will go to the grocery store and buy those Clorox Bleach Wipies and I use them up like some Howard Hughes crack addict. [Editor's Note: I'd sew them into clothing if I thought it would be fashionable. Oooh, Heidi! A new idea for Project Runway. Cocktail dresses that are self-sanitizing....awe.some. - Kate] And then she'll ask me where they are, and I'm always like "Oh, ummm...I think we haven't bought any in a long time..." and then I'm pretty sure she says something in Spanish about working for a crazy lady, and then I give her a raise. I'm starting to think every container of Clorox Bleach Wipies costs about six hundred and forty seven dollars.

So I made the mistake of opening the entry way closet last weekend, mostly because I get cold if the temperature drops below 80 [Editor's Note: I'm Texas, y'all. - Kate] and I needed a jacket. Now, a smart person would have whipped open that door, grabbed the first fleece-y thing you felt and slammed it shut. Nope, I investigated. Besides coats, there are bags of winter accessories, like hats and gloves and scarves. Which is totally reasonable to find in the closet where coats are. And then there's bags of summer accessories, like goggles and sunscreen and towels that. are. still. damp. from. the. last. day. at. the. pool. three. weeks. ago. Which is wrong. And then there's the old newspapers, bags and bags that are full of...wait for it...other bags, scrapbooks, film, old photos, a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" basket with tea towels and what may or may not have been chocolate chip cookies when we moved in FOUR YEARS AGO, unopened box of outdoor lights that I bought for our wedding three years ago, , one of Happy's diaper bags - that went immediately into the outside trash; there are some things I don't need to know - and a Troy Aikman poster that I want to have framed. Shut Up.

When the hell did all this happen? I am the Queen of Throwing Crap Away. But it seems that in the past year or so, the junk in my house has apparently been throwing Drunk Junk Parties while I'm at work or something, and making all these adorable little Baby Junks that are taking over my house.
  • The Toy Closet: Last Cleaned, May 2010. Status: Bane of My Existence. I loathe this closet. It's big and deep and we actually had someone come in and add shelves so that it could be "more organized" but really it just means that, in addition to toys being all over the floor, they now look like they're crawling up the wall. That's what our toys need: Radiated spider venom. I've spent countless days tackling this closet like some tragic Greek bastard, and yet, every time I open the door, things attack me. Last week it was one of those rubber squishy ball things that has those intestinal villi rubber hairs all over it. I screamed. And, because my reason for opening the closet was to free a toy that was apparently being held hostage by its own packaging [Editor's Note: Really? Is all that molded plastic and those zip tab holders really necessary? Are toy manufacturers actually concerned that the Hot Wheels will race away from their fancy box-into-a-racetrack packaging? - Kate] I happened to have a kitchen knife with me, and stabbed the little millipede-al rodent. He's still in there. I think the other toys are considering their options.
  • My Desk: Last Cleaned, August 2010. Status: Undetermined. Whuck?! I work here. And what's ON my desk doesn't even include what's under it, mostly consisting of 87 pages of newspaper with Sharpie notes all over it, six pairs of shoes, another swim bag with possibly moldy floaties and an opened bag of SunChips; my work satchel, my home satchel, my shopping satchel [Editor's Note: Yes, I've taken the wrong one on many occasions. Super fun to show up to work without a notebook, pen or office ID, but I do have gift cards to Williams-Sonoma and a 25% off coupon to StrideRite. Even more fun to spend 45 minutes forcing Happy and Lefty to try on dress shoes and then try to pay for it with my envelope full of receipts and pictures from a tattoo parlor in Hookertown. -Kate]
There's a coffee cup that's probably been there a month judging from the fact that's its adhered. itself. to. the. desk. and a Kleenex that's apparently applying for permanent residency, at least that's what the paper says underneath it. When did I print out an Application for Permanent Residency Status? Last time I checked, I already lived here...My old iPhone is still on my desk despite the fact that I have a new one. But then again, so is the box from the new one. There's a bottle of nail polish, a bottle of glue and a bottle of sand. There's also two catalogs from which I'll never order, receipts from places I've never been and address of places I've never gone. You know what there isn't? Two square inches of DESK.
  • The Junk Drawer: Last Cleaned, Two Weeks Ago. Status: Epicenter of Junk Storm. Everything I don't want to deal with gets dropped in this drawer. Fliers from school, mail, pens with no caps, caps with no pens, Sharpies that I think will suddenly spring back to life again like they're Lazarus or something, the Geriatric Gimpy Beagle's Medical File, which is so enormous now it qualifies as a tome; a Tupperware that's been appropriated to hold those little metal thingies that attach your kitchen sink to your kitchen counter. I took them off when I had to replace the faucet. Thanksgiving Day 2006. Ironically, the same day that the children learned how to say the f-word. Whenever I decide to clean out this drawer, I just wind up moving the sh*t into little piles all over the kitchen, with intended destinations: McGee's Room, Bathroom, Happy's Room, Desk, Lefty's Room, etc...then it's time to fix dinner and I just cram it all back in the junk drawer. It's so full now it's dumping out the back and into the cabinet below it. I pretend I don't see it.
  • The Weird Kitchen Cabinet: Last Cleaned, Never. Status: Scheduled for Demolition.  Let's see, there's the Crock-Pot, a Belgian waffle maker, half a set of dishes we don't use but I can't get rid of for some reason, a wine making kit that was a Christmas present like four years ago, orphan wine glasses from when I broke the rest of the ones that match it, more random Tupperware that don't have lids (again, maybe the trash?) and Christmas things I found after I packed up the Christmas stuff and didn't want to look at for 11 months. The only saving grace of this cabinet is that it opens from both sides, which, ironically, is also why I hate it. Because it's impossible to stash anything. Because if you put it deep in the back, it's really way in the front of the other side. And, if I try to shove in something that maybe is too big, then something else dumps out the other end. Strangely, it reminds me of the IHPs when they were babies; give them more food, count on a diaper explosion about 14 second later. Add to the fact that I am permanently bruised on both hip bones from hitting the corners every time I try to walk past this part of my kitchen, and I've convinced myself that I could just take a sledgehammer to this thing and not miss it for one minute. Except for that I'd then have an indigent Crock-Pot, and really, aren't there enough homeless things in my house?
I have to get out of here. I'll just tell Nanny I'm going to buy more Clorox Bleach Wipies. I think there's a coupon in the Junk Drawer. Everything else I'm just going to use as kindling. Except for Troy; you're heading to the framers. Just as soon as I remember where I put you. Which means I have to go on a search and rescue mission. I'm bringing the kitchen knife...

xoxo Kate



(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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