Matt and I went home to Minnesota for Christmas this year. We're lucky enough to have a wonderful housesitter stay with Barley while we're away. We've taken him to kennels, but Barley hates being there, and I can't take the guilt.
Because I knew someone was going to be in our house for a week, I spent practically the entire week before we left cleaning and scrubbing. Yes, there were still pockets of everyday messiness (read: I didn't clean Matt's messes), but for the most part, I could eat off nearly any surface in our home.
As we were getting ready to go to the airport, I let Barley outside one last time. Somehow, he got himself wrapped around a tree, and I had to plod through the snow to unwind his leash and let him inside. I ran around the house for a couple more minutes, grabbing last-minute things for the trip.
While we were on our way to the airport, not two minutes from home, I started to smell the undeniable smell of doggie poo. I have a knack of stepping in dog poop, so I knew it was me. Matt freaked out and pulled the car over so I could get it off. With most of the poo adequately scraped and Matt and I on our way to the airport, I realized one of my life's saddest disappointments:
Rachel: "I just spent five days cleaning our house."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "I even cleaned the baseboards."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "And then I stepped in dog poop and walked all over the house."
Matt: (pause for contemplation) "She probably won't notice the baseboards."
4 comments:
I don't think you are ready for kids.
As long as they don't poop, I'll be fine. :)
It's taken me a long time to arrive at this opinion. I hope you get there sooner. Cleaning is over-rated, and, darn it anyway, always needs to be redone!
Baseboards = the bane of my existence. Or, keeping baseboards clean = the bane of my existence. Or, the fact that I feel guilty when I notice the baseboards need cleaning and yet I don't clean them = the bane of my existence. Take your pick.
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