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terryclothI really loathe housework. In fact, I endeavor to avoid it as much as possible. This makes occasions such as this week when the management has given 48 hours notice of a 'fire alarm and general safety inspection' kind of stressful, because there are things in the apartment that don't bother *me*, but... well, let's just say they don't bother me.
Okay, thing 1, taken care of last night: I tend to store random trash on the kitchen counter until it piles up too high to store any more. That got put in two bags and hauled out.
Thing 2: Paper and old boxes get piled up next to the couch. It took five trash cans to clear that all away, and that's not counting the boxes which I folded up and carried down separately.
Thing 3, which is the one I *really* hate: The bathroom. Specifically, mildew in the bathroom. All over everything. Drains in the bathroom are very slow. UNFORTUNATE: I decided to see if the mold on the walls was really growing out of the paint, as it appeared to be. It wasn't. So I had to scrub down the walls, too.
Still waiting for the sink and bathtub to drain from the first pass that scraped off the main layer of scum, so that I can wash them again for real. I'm naked, filthy, sweaty, and sore.
Still, for all that, I have no regrets. It's once a year, after all. I can deal with a couple hours of work once a year.
Okay, thing 1, taken care of last night: I tend to store random trash on the kitchen counter until it piles up too high to store any more. That got put in two bags and hauled out.
Thing 2: Paper and old boxes get piled up next to the couch. It took five trash cans to clear that all away, and that's not counting the boxes which I folded up and carried down separately.
Thing 3, which is the one I *really* hate: The bathroom. Specifically, mildew in the bathroom. All over everything. Drains in the bathroom are very slow. UNFORTUNATE: I decided to see if the mold on the walls was really growing out of the paint, as it appeared to be. It wasn't. So I had to scrub down the walls, too.
Still waiting for the sink and bathtub to drain from the first pass that scraped off the main layer of scum, so that I can wash them again for real. I'm naked, filthy, sweaty, and sore.
Still, for all that, I have no regrets. It's once a year, after all. I can deal with a couple hours of work once a year.
