I Throw Out Everything
I love Mondays.
Monday is trash day.
I love it so much I even have it on my iPhone calendar with a beeping little reminder so that on Mondays, at 9 a.m. sharp, I am given a little technological nudge in the form of: “Quick! Throw things out before Cute Redhead catches you!”
I have this terrible wonderful habit of throwing out anything I decide is In The Way. And when I’m in That Zone, everything is In The Way.
And I don’t like clutter. At all. And if I have to walk into a room around or over things, it Displeases me.
And we don’t want That.
So I tend to transmogrify into Marty Stewart and start straightening things up. Because my children have suddenly evaporated and devolved into whatever predated humans with opposable thumbs. It is amazing. Ask them to pick up the room and they turn into limp, boneless sacks of goo. However, tell them there’s a new video game to be had, and they’re after the Nintendo like a dog clawing under the refrigerator after a MilkBone™.
So, it all started with Stupid Cat who was crouched, tail-twitched, stone cold not-moving in 24/7 Red Alert Pounce Position.
Looking under the couch.
A ha. Not my first rodeo. This means another mouse. If you need backstory on that one, click here and we’ll wait for you.
So, I dropped what I was doing and moved the couch so I could watch Next Cat Hors d’oeuvre run for its life.
*move couch
No mouse runs out. But I didn’t care. Because what I saw when I moved the couch tripped my head into something I can’t repeat if I were to put it into words. Which I did.
So whatever I was doing before this (I still don’t remember) was eclipsed by New Mission. Which was to clean this room. The TV room. The room the kids hang out in and, if I can find a clean spot on the couch, I’ll hang out from time to time.
But not this time. This time I was on New Mission. Which was to clean this room.
Okay, two hours later I take the photo up above. See how the couch is moved all crooked? That’s where it all began. When I moved it so Stupid Cat could Dine and Dash. Which she didn’t because there was no mouse. Or…rather, if there was a mouse, it was well hidden amidst:
…every candy wrapper west of the Mississippi
…21 (I counted) VHS movies (we haven’t had a VHS player in years)
…31 DVDs (none of which were in their correct cases)
…a used Q-Tip (on top of the Giant TV Cabinet) (don’t ask because I don’t know)
…egg shells (concerning)
…old shoes
…old socks
…a Thermos I haven’t seen in four months with something…heavy…slogging around inside it (do we open it and conduct it to the dishwasher? No. No, we don’t. *trash)
…enough Legos to build an aircraft carrier
…every useless, plastic, stupid fast food toy ever made
…a ton of other things I don’t want to revisit.
Five hours after that, the job was done.
That was last weekend.
Last night I threw out something else.
My back.
Want to know how?
By lying in bed DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
NOTHING.
Please shoot me.
Hummm?? No mouse. Wicked Strong. Cute Red Head. Bed. Night. Back out. Sounds like your bragin’ to me.
lol yeah no, you read bit more into that than I can back up.
Man.
Hitting a bruise to read this one.
In way more ways than one.
I feel your pain.
I know you do, Carl :)