Amanda was relating to me how she had made a list of things she wanted to get done around the house yesterday. Stuff like 1) clean & mop kitchen, 2) clean & vacuum living room, 3) deglaze children, etc. The list ended up having six items on it, and it's not like "oh yea, I'll just clean & mop the kitchen". It's a hazard-pay kind of project, involving industrial solvents, chisels, sledgehammers and sandblasting equipment.
All it takes is a single twenty-four hour period of popsicles, juice, malt-o-meal, crayons, pencil shavings, chili-dog oozings, mud & sandbox trailings and ensuing fingerpainting acitivities on every available surface to render the full-scale cleaning battle it becomes. It reminds me of those science documentaries where they show the time-lapse footage of a piece of fruit rotting on the forest floor. And thousands of flitting grubs, nematodes and mycelia are swarming all over it in every conceivable way until it disolves into this undulating, pulpuous mass that you'd sooner incinerate than try to reconstitute. Fortunately, Amanda has a strong constitution for these things, and she took up the cause anyway.
Except every time she tried to get started, the kids ended up crawling all over her. I guess Giselle couldn't understand why she was getting so frustrated and not playing Barbies with her at any given moment. "But Mom, you only have six things on your list! That's not so much!" Heh, so those converstions don't just happen at the office. To her extreme credit, the kitchen looked superb for last night's taco bonanza. Mmmm mmmm that was good.
Oh, and Queen's Bicycle Song is another stinker that can take a flying leap. Bleah.
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