Let the Sun Shine In

Today in Groton is a lovely fall day.  Maybe a little breezy...okay, a lot breezy.  But the sun is shining and there is a freshness in the air.  As the bright sunlight dances in through the windows and onto my kitchen, I begin to notice that the freshness of the day outside does not lend to the freshness on the inside.  Let me explain.

On Mondays, I have become addicted to the show "Hoarders".  I think its because no matter how dirty my house sometimes gets, its nowhere near what these people's houses look like.  One woman had ten dead cats in her house!!!  I may have ten dead spiders, or perhaps a couple of dead moths, but no cats.  Apparently she couldn't smell the death decay because the mold, bacteria and other extraterrestrial growths taking over the house lent a more overpowering aroma to the surroundings.

However, this morning, as the sun shone through the windows into my kitchen, I started to see things that were borderline grotesque.  First, the sun hits the windows, where I see hand prints from a toddler, tongue marks from a dog, and what I believe to be forehead marks just about Daddy-height.  This happens when adults are trying to talk on the phone while the circus performs in the kitchen.  We think if we get closer to the windows, we may be able to hear what the other party on the line is saying.  From the windows, my line of sight makes its way to the dining table, where I discover more fingerprints, smudges, crumbs, dust, and general shrapnel from last night's dinner.  My eyes move down to the wool rug lying underneath the table, where the dog hair loves to adhere.  Right now, I don't really recall what colors the rug is supposed to be composed of, they have become hazy with a thin layer of white.  The sun also reveals the sheer amount of surface scratches in our hard wood floor, along with the tufts of dog hair that I swear were not there last night.  Now I understand that they were hiding under the cover of darkness and shadows that our incandescent lighting creates.  I follow the sunlight over to the refrigerator doors, which are covered with toddler sized finger prints, what I believe to be dog tongue marks, and some sort of sticky substance that could be watermelon lolly pop.  Hence, the canine tongue marks. 

The countertop leading to the sink has a thin layer of dust, which I don't understand because I just wiped it down yesterday.  Are we sloughing off that much dead skin??  I shudder at the thought and proceed to the stove, which is also covered by fingerprints and the suspect sticky residue.  No tongue marks here, I think she still remembers getting her nose burned on the oven door.  I have now made a full circle around the kitchen and begin to wonder how bad the rest of the house is.  I decide to go on a recon mission.  I glance into our bedroom...not much going on here, except for the fact that someone sneezed while standing really close to the TV.  Someone who may be around three feet high and possibly eating a pop tart.  There are a few cobwebs, not anything too horrific though.  The bathroom counter is a little cluttered, but okay.  I move into the old living room.  I pass by this room because right now, its a lost cause.  It is half torn apart with the renovations we began about a year ago, but have not done anything with since.  The kids bathroom, also not bad, but a little cluttered.  Michael's bedroom also is not bad, and neither is Mary's, with the exception of a few carcasses near the windows.  Any insects that enter the house go to that particular place to expire, we are not sure why.  Probably because it is the highest point in the house. 

After the recon, I begin to understand that the kitchen, my domain out of all the rooms in the house, is the messiest.  Why is this?  Can I blame it on someone other than myself.  I try desperately to come up with some other individual to blame.  I think that I may blame the husband, but he only is home on the weekends...I could blame the toddler and the dog, but some of the mess could have only been made by someone around five feet tall.  The tween could be blamed, she is around five feet tall.  But no, I soon realize that its all my fault.  I cannot deny it any longer.  I am a poor housekeeper, I guess.  Or it could be because after playing chauffeur, cook, personal shopper, homework helper, laundry maid, and bathing nurse, I'm too damn tired to care.  "Let the chambermaid clean it up."  Oh crap...I am the chambermaid.  I'll do it tomorrow.