No One Say "Nesting"

Going to my parents' house always results in a cleaning frenzy when I return home. Because their house is so clean, you see. Of course, it's also only a few years old, which makes it just a wee bit easier to clean. And they have no animals. And no woodstove. And the house is surrounded by pavement instead of mud. And it's just the two of them.

Obviously, I do not aspire to their level of cleanliness, because frankly, it ain't gonna happen at Blackrock, with all its animals and 150-year-old dirt.

BUT ANYWAY.

Monday I did the routine cleaning: the picking up, the dusting, the vacuuming, the sweeping. Yesterday I cleaned the chandeliers in the downstairs rooms. Why? I don't know. Because they were covered in cobwebs and the little plastic fake candle parts at the base of the bulbs were covered in fly specks. Good enough reasons, I guess. Then, since I had a dish pan full of soapy water to wash the candle thingies, I also washed some of the random glassware in the dining room that gets filthy when the woodstove is going: candlesticks, vases, the tray of whiskey glasses and decanter on the sideboard.

Here's the annoying thing about doing things like this: It's not all that noticeable. It's not as if someone would walk in and exclaim over the lack of cobwebs on my chandeliers. But they WOULD notice if the cobwebs were still there. And that is pretty much why I don't bother with this stuff on a regular basis. Self-satisfaction is not enough; I need validation from others, apparently.

BUT. Do you know what ELSE I did yesterday? I unclogged our bathroom sink. It was pretty gross, but ultimately much more satisfying than cleaning the chandeliers. I guess I would be a better plumber than housemaid.

Make of that what you will.