As most anyone who knows me will tell you, I am not the most domesticated of women. I can change a car battery, ride a horse, wither football players with a single glance, and even install my own window AC unit...but please do not ask me to cook. One part of this whole domestication thing I’m actually fairly decent at is cleaning. So I decided to put that to work this week while my boyfriend slaves away at work all day. When I got here his bedroom floor was like one giant laundry basket. In his defense, he just got back from a 6 month deployment, moved into a new apartment, and was there only a week or so before leaving to visit family and friends (and me!) and then was back just a week or so from that adventure before I got here. Anyway, his fault or not, the room was sort of a disaster. This past weekend we bought some shelves and such to help with the organizing so I figured that while he was at work I’d put myself to some use and clean this place up!
So after my honey left for work and after a two hour nap on the couch and after a trip to Target...I finally set to work. I washed, hung, folded, and organized. The bulk of the work was in the clothes. I had to figure out which piles of clothes were clean, which piles were dirty, and which were a combination of the two. Also among the piles of clothes were random items of trash and importance alike. I attempted to sort and put away the things of importance while throwing the trash in various trash bags to be thrown out later. As I’m cleaning out the closet, I come across a trash bag that after a quick glance inside looks like the discarded wrappings of various electronics accessories. So I continue on my tornado-like cleaning path right on through the afternoon.
When he gets home I am just so proud of all my work that I drag him upstairs so he can see just how neatly I’ve organized everything from his undershirts (work separated from regular! and folded!) to his spare linens (by spare linen I mean spare blanket). He is not quite as excited as I am about it, but he’s a guy, what can you expect. :) As we head back downstairs, and I’m still jabbering in his ear about all the clutter I’ve gotten rid of and how he should get baskets and bins to be even more organized (an idea which he flatly refused, real men don’t need organizing bins), he asks whether I found a plastic bag on the floor of the closet and where I’ve put it. Oh, well of course, I’ve thrown it away, it was just trash right? Nope, not even close. So after some frantic banter about what was in the bag, I run out to search the dumpster for this bag...yep, classy, I know. So I find it and come in, head drooping, bag in hand and sit down with him to see just what I’ve thrown away. Camera charger, camera cords, headphones, a screwdriver, some other tool, and oh yes, a digital camera. Sigh. I’ve struck again. This is what I get for trying to be domestic for the day. At least we saved what was in the bag, but tonight I’m cooking...on my own...bahahahaha (evil laugh). I’ll write next time about the chaos that is sure to ensue.