Day of Reckoning

I believe in box cleaning. I wish, many times a year, that I took my free time (of which I have a lot) and used it to clean closets, cabinets, drawers and unused rooms. As we are on the cusp of the proverbial empty nest, you’d think I’d relish such projects. I don’t. Instead I box clean, which simply means that when someone important (i.e. anyone other than immediate family) is coming over, I madly rush throughout the house and throw things in boxes and laundry baskets and then hide them. In the past, I have box cleaned so well that I have either never found the boxes or really didn’t need their contents. This would come back to bite me in the ass when we decided to move so that we’d have more room for our crap. Suddenly, I came face to face with crap I’ve hidden, didn’t need or should have taken better care of long ago. You’d think I’d learn my lesson and stop box cleaning and start real cleaning, but NO. I continue in my madness. Since I am, unfortunately, all worked up over what people think of me, I have pissed off many members of my family in one of my box cleaning missions.

This Christmas, I worked my butt off box cleaning. One of the biggest targets of my efforts was the laundry. Prior to Christmas, we had visited family and had gone to a football game. It was cold, wet and rainy. I was well-prepared for the weather, but not so prepared for washing the resulting winterwear. Before we left, I was so damn proud of the fact that I washed every last piece of laundry, giving me that relaxing feeling during the holidays. Dammit if it didn’t all come screaming back at me. You can see the results above. And so, when we had family coming over on Christmas Day, I had to box clean my laundry. I hid it and crammed it into every laundry chute and clothes hamper I could find. Today is my day of reckoning. I can no longer avoid the mountains of stinkiness. Crap. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in the laundry room.