My mother is practically a hoarder, although she's being good lately about throwing shit out, and her house is never neat when I visit (I'm usually the one straightening stuff out --it's always other peoples messes that are a joy to clean up). But, to be honest, my messes are the messes of a depressed person, and I try my best to hide that baggage from my mum, who's already disappointed enough in me that I'm not a NASA scientist or someone making 75 grand a year. It's like one more slap in her face that all her kids are failures. I know she wants the best for me, but on my end it just reads as disappointment in me. But I'm just another fuckup fucktard who lives with the lights off so that I can keep the bill down and not see the dishes piling up.
And cleaning for when she visits is the only time that I do. So.
And we've never been a hotel-visiting family. We've always been the "we'll sleep on the floor if we have to" family because we ain't made out of money.
mama doesn't want to be stuck at home all weekend with grounded pouty boy. for lo, mama is felling selfish.
Ground him to the grandparents!
I am suddenly feeling weird that I am making a million craigslist posts with my parents' address in them. Due to the yard sale on Saturday, but still. I hope no one robs them!
I have major issues around housecleaning, which I'm just lately coming to realize is more than mere laziness (though I do have that too, yes indeed). Having been raised by women who tended to have yelling crying breakdowns if the house wasn't in perfect order and perfect cleanliness, and knowing that I will never meet their standards, I have a serious fuck-it attitude towards housekeeping.
oh, the grandparents are out of towns. OF COURSE THEY ARE!!!
Nanny McPhee for part of an afternoon?
Cleaning overwhelms me. I'm compulsively tidy, but unless it's something that gets noticeable immediate results, like vacuuming, I hate it. I hate dusting, when it feels like you're just moving the dust around. I hate thinking I should sweep the kitchen floor, and leaning down to see it really needs to be scrubbed.
Basically, I resent that everything doesn't magically stay clean, I guess.
I majorly gave up on housekeeping a while back. I am less fuck-it than I was, but still - well, I'm really proud of myself for letting my parents come over a couple of weeks ago. I didn't apologize for the state of my house or yard and they didn't comment. Big win.
Argh, msbelle. Dang it.
Mom commented about my dusty floor a couple weeks ago when she visited, but I countered by pointing to the clean litterbox that had been recently swept around, and the two rambunctious cats whose war on my snapdragons was self-evident. (And graciously opted NOT to show her my nigh-sparkling toilet bowl and invite a comparison that wouldn't favor her.) I concentrate on cleaning filth, dust and clutter I can live with.
Did you hand off the kittens, Matt?
