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Kitchen cleaning should be an Olympic sport



I went into a wild panic yesterday when I couldn't find my Kindle.
It's got all my summer reading on it, as well as my newspaper subscription.
I couldn't find it anywhere.
So I decided to clean the house today from top to bottom.
This is a big deal for me. I'm tidy, but I'm not a cleaner. I have a bad back, seriously, and I cannot vaccuum or bend over for any length of time lest I experience excruciating pain in my upper and middle back. Blame the boobs.
Scott does most of the heavy cleaning and scrubbing. I do the picking up.
But when I do go on a cleaning jag, I am unstoppable.
You see, men don't see the gritty little corners. They don't get down on hands and knees and see all the puppy destruction and grime. It's sort of the same way men cook. They can stand for hours over a hot barbecue with a beer in one hand and a fork in the other, then scrub it clean in 6.5 seconds. But the greasy pans can sit in the sink for hours, sometimes days. Women can't stand that.
So when I finally steel myself for a housecleaning, the entire place gets done.
Today, I tackled the kitchen drawers which were filled with all manner of utensils. I found about a hundred skewers, several basting brushes, six sets of cutlery left over from kids moving back home as well as about two pounds of kitchen paraphernalia I could not identify. There were a lot of tubey things with needles attached to them, as well as pastry tips with no bags attached.
So I now have a kitchen table filled with unidentifiable objects. It sort of looks like a morgue or a dentist's office full of shiny bits with no discernable purpose.
It's what I get for spending so much time at HomeSense.
I'll have to wait until Scott gets home to decide whether this stuff should be pitched.
The rest of the house isn't too bad. We now live in a small two-bedroom pile and I've managed to pitch and pitch and pitch over the past two years.
All we have are barebones furniture; there are no knick knacks that most little old ladies treasure. I don't even have enough clothes to fill my closet.
But the kitchen drawers were truly disturbing. Like aliens landed and filled my kitchen with probes.
Anyway, job well done, Rose. You are the Olympic gold medaller of kitchen cleaning.
The damned thing is, I still haven't found my Kindle.
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