I was never a particularly organized or neat person. Growing up, my room was in a constant state of complete chaos – as in, floor? What floor? When I went to college, I was astounded when my roommate dusted her side of our dorm room once a week and put away every spec of clutter in an orderly fashion. I did not so much do these things as I let my clothes, books, etc overtake my side of the room in a slovenly tribute to what a dorm room should look like.
Somewhere along the way though, things changed. In some ways I am horrified by this, but in other ways I see my newfound hatrid of clutter, dirt, and disorganization as my Type A, high-strung birthright.
And so it was that I spent a good four hours yesterday cleaning the kitchen.
The very thought that I spent so much of my weekend on some kind of homemaking binge startles me. But you know what? That kitchen looks DAMN GOOD. And it is now free of clutter, and full of organization. Ahhh, lovely organization.
This kitchen has been my nemesis since we moved in. I can reach approximately two of the cabinets. Well, one if I need to reach all the way to the back of it. Thus, the ever present step stool. How embarrassing. It’s not easy being short.
Due to my lack of height, I’ve rearranged things MANY times to get to a point where I don’t need to drag a step stool around to 3 different places just to make dinner. And yet I still wasn’t satisfied. Add to that the mysterious spill in the fridge and we have a situation just waiting to be remedied.
Even though it took SO. FREAKING. LONG. it looks awesome. That is, it looks awesome if you open the cabinets and the fridge and the microwave because not much has changed in the visible parts of the room. I did finally use the proper type of cleaning solution on our ceramic cook-top though, so, ooh! Shiny!
I should note that this weekend’s kitchen rampage is all part of a master plan in which I concentrate on one room every weekend, doing a deep cleaning and throwing things out and making a list of things that we need to buy/do (i.e. buy a damn light bulb for the light over the stove because it has been burnt out since we moved in). Next weekend is the office’s turn. Get your shredders ready for a deluge of junk mail.
I should also tell you that when I mentioned this plan to Matt, I could actually SEE his brain working furiously to come up with a reason that he couldn’t help me. And then suddenly a wave of relief washed over him. “Well gee, honey, I’m really sorry, but with my broken toes I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to help.”
But that’s OK. I’m saving the bathroom for last, when I can be sure he’ll be back to full steam and ready to scrub some grout.
Bwah hah hah hah hah…