A clean home is the cornerstone to creating a serene and loving atmosphere in one's abode.
Cobwebs have no place, wood should shine and dust bunnies should be placed on a shoot to kill basis.
So, last week, or maybe it was last month, the Husband mentioned to me that he discovered a new ecosystem living under our living room couches. Actually he said, "It needs to be cleaned under there."
Translation: "YOU need to clean under there."
Irate as a person MIGHT get with that, I didn't because I'm loving and all that stuff, so I just chose to pretend I didn't hear him.
And then I thought about how long it had been since I had cleaned under there.
In my defense, I lived my entire married life with couches that were flat on the floor. No legs, nothing could get underneath, no reason to clean. But these new couches in our living room have legs. So it's totally not my fault that I don't remember to clean under them. I was conditioned for 15 years not to care.
AND! For the first while of having these couches, there was no baby or toddler shoving stuff under them.
AND FURTHERMORE! For the longest while, we didn't have a long haired 70 pound black fur ball with legs in the house either.
These true and factual statements really do vindicate me of any blame. It's not my fault I neglected this one tiny piece of housekeeping. Besides, this American economy thingy has really got me worried and how's a person suppose to remember to clean under a couch when you're concerned about the second great depression?
But in order to keep this real, I will confess that I figured out the last time time I cleaned under the couches.
Last December. Yes, go ahead. Mock me. Point your fingers my way and go tell your neighbours that I'm a lousy excuse for a domestic goddess.
So, exactly what can accumulate under one's couches in the short time period of, uh, 9 months? Yes, in the same amount of time that it takes to grow a baby, this is what you, too, could discover under your chesterfields.Ironically, an I Spy Book, an Easter egg, assorted dog bones, assorted plastic toys, two dog kongs, a colouring pages set, an unused (thank gosh) diaper, an orthotic shoe insert (???), an empty gift wrap roll, a comb, assorted hair accessories, a pencil, a princess Pez dispenser, a DVD cover, books, the handle of a phone, a Smarties box, a plastic bag, unused band aids, a newspaper delivery notice, Save-On-Foods coupons, a doll's pacifier, and the lid from a toy bin. I had been looking for that. Oh, and 18 pounds of dog hair.
I wish I had remembered to take 'after' pictures because it would have be nice to prove that I actually did clean up that mess and didn't just shove the couches back in their place in a moment of overwhelming sadness. I suppose I could go and take some pictures now but really, that's too much work. And to be honest, there's probably crap under there already and I'd have to clean it again before I took pictures. I'm not really into that.
The small part of my brain that's intellectual and thought provoking wants me to make an analogy between the state of the floors hidden under my couches and the state of my life. But I just drink beer and keep that part of my brain intoxicated. It all works out.