A Good {Wo}man Works Until the Daylight’s Gone

I clean on Mondays, and before I went to bed on Sunday, I made a list of things that absolutely needed doing on Monday. I fall asleep so much faster if I make a list, and I accomplish so much more the next day when it stares back at me, daring me to cross it off victorious.

Usually I start cleaning day around 9 am and wrap it up around 1 pm. But yesterday? Oh, brother. I got a late start at 10:30 because I had the audacity to indulge in a blog post about my morning workout that turned my arms into cooked noodles (they’re swollen and sore as a cowboy’s behind today, thanks for asking). According to my regular clock, the cleaning should have been done around 2:30ish. But it wasn’t. In fact, at 2:30 I wasn’t even halfway done. I was, in case you were wondering, trying to force my vacuum to pick up pine needles.
That’s right. For Christmas, I got one of “them balsams” where all the needles fall off (“ain’t no needles comin’ off this here tree…”)

My poor vacuum. I bought it with a gift card we received as a wedding gift. We’ve been married for 7 and half years now, and I’m starting to see why the 7th year gets a bad rap. Everything. Falls. Apart.
My toaster (a wedding gift. classic.) has stopped popping the toast up 100%.
My vacuum has stopped working as well as it used to.
My tupperware, treated with kid gloves (and loads of bleach), is begging for mercy (“just send us to the landfill, mommy!”).
And so it goes…

We’re powering through, so don’t worry about us.
I powered through yesterday. When I vacuumed as much as my back would let me (still hurting from Bookcase Day), I paid my kids a buck each to scour the floor for  pine needles. I even gave each one a plastic bag. Special treatment, that.

I bleached yesterday. I bleached my trashcan, in and out. I bleached the dishes that came out of the fridge that I cleaned with baking soda and vinegar. I thought about my mom and how she had taught me to clean a fridge. I thought about how I was going to have to teach my daughter someday. Then I chimed in and sang, “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” at the top of my lungs. Then I cleaned the counters off, breaking a platter as I did so (yet another example of my elegant grace). I washed our bedding. I cleaned out the microwave. I SINGE-HANDEDLY hauled our dryer-than-dry balsam Christmas tree out of the house and into the back of our little truck. I moved the loveseat back into it’s spot the Christmas tree had stolen (my back hated me for it). Then I chimed in and sang along with Dolly Parton, “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, JO-LEEENE!”
Have I mentioned that I tune into my Loretta Lynn Pandora station every Monday? Cleaning goes by so much quicker to cheatin’ songs.
As I polished and scrubbed and threatened to throw the children’s toys away, I also chanced to look in the mirror. The day was coming to a close, the sun was beginning to set, and I looked exactly like I did after the Fated Workout. So I made quick work of myself, throwing on a little make up and a wrinkled top (and about 8 ounces of perfume). The minute my husband walked through the door was the minute I finished Cleaning Day.
Cleaning Day turned right into dinner time (leftovers!) and dinner time turned right into Family Home Evening (in the which I terrified my children to the bone as I rehearsed the story of The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf -see if THEY lie anytime soon) and Family Home Evening turned right into bedtime.
For the kids.
Do you know what I did? I turned to my husband and said, “I’m going to put a heating pad on my back, crochet a hot pad, and watch Downton Abbey. I’ve been waiting all day -I’m so excited!”
My husband looked at me like I was crazy.
I rehearsed back to myself what I had said.
Sit.
Heating Pad.
Crochet.
Hot Pad.
Television Program.

Then I asked my husband to please call my Nancy -my new Old Lady Code Name. Last night, I Nancied it up hard core.

Over two years ago, I found a crochet pattern for a hot pad that I loved! I had just spent a few lost-forever minutes in the cooking aisle at Wal-Mart bemoaning the prices of hot pads when it suddenly struck me that I had the power to MAKE hot pads… what in the devil was I doing PRICING them? So I went home, found this great pattern and proceeded to make a million and give them out because MAN, aren’t they AWESOME?! I saved a practice one for myself and hated the very sight of it. It was creme, turquoise, and had pepto-pink backing.
You would cry too if it happened to you.
Finally, after two years of going without and hating what I had, I sat back and MADE one selfishly. For myself (if you’ve seen Thoroughly Modern Millie, please clap. I insert the “selfishly for myself” quote anywhere I can).

The best part was: Episode 1 of Season 2 of Downton Abbey was TWO HOURS long! I thought it was one! I was absolutely thrilled to the bone to sit and watch two blessed hours of one of my favorite television shows! It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
My sheer exhaustion was richly rewarded.
I can’t wait for Monday to roll ’round again.

Nancy Time.

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