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The Bang Bang Theories

I Beg Your Pardon

So I’ve been doing a little something extra around the bedroom lately, Reader.  Not really in the bedroom, but they say you have to hook your audience with the first line or two, so I figured we’d start with a sentence alluding to sexual things happening around here, and by the time you’ve gotten this far you are sticking around just to see what the hell I’m talking about this time.

You will be won’t be disappointed.

So there’s this crazy-helpful – see, crazy-helpful with a dash makes it a complimentary adjective vs. a condemnation – woman who thinks you need to set your house into zones to keep it clean. She’s known as the Flylady, which is not intuitive to remember at all, because I picture a dirty house with a bunch of flies, so maybe it actually is a really great moniker for her because in all the clutter in my brain I was able to remember her and look her back up to link you to her.

Well, based on some of the pressure helpful advice I read on her website, I incorporated two pieces of her tips into my own chaotic life. First, I added her 5-minute bathroom wipe down on a daily basis. Usually twice a day, because frankly I’m a Messy Marvin in there, and splash water and spill makeup and then there’s the hairsprays and the lotions and other magic potions – well, it takes no time at all for it to become a place that the Flylady would find very disappointing had she ever decided to come hang out in my bathroom.

So I’ve been wiping it all down, and cleaning the mirror. And guess what, Reader?

It’s REALLY fucking helpful, that’s what.

I know! Not the outcome you had hoped for! You had hoped I would report that it’s a giant waste of time and the Flylady could shove her judge-y tips right up her twat, but nope. Her tips are pretty damn solid.

I don’t cringe when I walk into my bathroom! I don’t have a giant bathroom cleaning job saved up for the weekend, which, let’s be honest here, was rarely getting accomplished on a timely basis.

Now, I still have to periodically give the shower a thorough scrubbing, as much as I wish it would just get cleaned from being NEAR the other clean parts, but so far that hasn’t happened.

But!

If you happened over, and people were occupying the other three bathrooms in the house at the same time and you needed to poop, you could walk right into my en suite (see what I did there, Reader?? I got all fancy-sounding like I’m on House Hunters! I blame it on the high I’m on from cleaning fumes) and take that poop without shame. Well, I wouldn’t feel the shame if you had to poop in my en suite.  You might, but really you shouldn’t unless you plugged it up and it overflowed. Then, maybe a little shame should be felt. But I don’t have any shame, and it’s all thanks to the Flylady and a few microfiber towels I keep at the ready.

The other zone that I’ve accepted that needs to be cleaned on a daily basis is the cat litter box room. My three *ahem* cats are filthy, and my trying to even skip one little day creates a bigger mess, and turns a ten minute job into a really yucky job. So this year I just decided, “Fuck it, I guess this is my other zone,” and I scoop and sweep and mop on a daily basis, usually right when I get home to get it out of the way or before bed, because nothing is quite as relaxing as cleaning up cat pee and poop and then jumping into bed for a relaxing night of zzzz’s.

 

Now you’ve had just one more glimpse into my Glamour Life. And also, now you know why I drink.

*now, it has dawned on me that some of you would never even consider NOT cleaning your bathroom/floors/what-the-fuck-evers on a daily basis. It’s just what you do. So pin a rose on your nose, Show-off.

**my mother was a daily floor-mopper, bathroom cleaner, duster, and general tidy house-keeper. But she also didn’t work til six at night!

***my mother also used the saying “Well, pin a rose on your nose” all the time, and I think it’s time to bring it back.

****if you don’t know what the saying means, go look it up while I’m pinning a rose on my own nose for knowing something you don’t.

 

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