Spring Cleaning

Every summer, as school books close and our normal routine is put aside with considerable satisfaction, a undeniable urge overcomes me and I have to deep clean the house. In an attempt to pace myself I made a list of every desperate area of the home and seize a small portion of the list every day to purge and clean.

Today, as the children played happily in the playroom and a podcast host chatted in the background, I approached today's "to-do"... the stove. My intention was to pull out the bottom drawer, where I store my favorite pots and pans, and lightly dust whatever was under There.

No words can express the horror that awaited me. Okay, so that might not the appropriate word, but oh, the dust, the gunk! I'm not sure why I thought it wouldn't be that bad. Maybe I've ingested too many fairy tales bragging about handiness of elves sneaking in to help a family in their time of need. I might very well have been expecting to see a forgotten elf hat. Whatever my expectation was this was not it.

And if that was just under the stove, what did it look behind the stove? Ugh... the terror! There were cheerios, cobwebs, a small hole in the wall leading, I am sure of it, to a rat kingdom who's lead plots to kill me in my sleep (and now we know he can since I have no helpful elves running around in the dark of night), and I found a piece of candy I don't remember buying.

I called Brad for a little sympathy and maybe a shared shock, but didn't get much. I hung up, considered putting the stove back into place and walking away, pretending I was cleared of all health hazards. What the heck, I started cleaning. I wiped, swept, wiped again, sprayed, wiped and scrubbed and wiped. I scrubbed the stove, the floor, the counter, and the fridge.

At one point I cut my finger and I considered calling Brad to warn him I might die of septic shock. However, considering my first confession to martyrdom wasn't received with the promises of gifts and debts, I forged ahead. Okay, so the cut was the depth of a paper cut, I have learned to take bacteria seriously thanks to a certain bee sting and a little shaving cut that brought me more pain than childbirth.

I found four hooks, one coin, three marbles, one set of measuring spoons, one forgotten spatula, three Legos, one dice, and about a pound of dust.

After all the dust and most of the gunk was gone I put the stove back into place. And ta dah!

I know. You can't tell a difference. 

I never did die of a bacterial infection, which is shocking considering the state of affairs. I am still here to share my experience and wisdom with you today: should you be presented with Pandora's Box, turn your back no matter the temptation, walk away, and go read a fairy tale about elves.