Spittin' Image

I have a long list of things that have to get done today. Not need to. Have to. That I'm sitting here blogging instead of getting them done really says something: I have an anecdote I just have to share with you.

See, I'm my mother's daughter. My mom is amazing. She really is. She's beautiful, smart, energetic, and funny. One of her unsung talents is that she's especially awesome when it comes to cleaning. Not a speck of dust anywhere. I know, I know, that's not something you appreciate going up. I remember thinking, "If I have to wash those baseboards one more time I'm gonna rip them out with my bare hands." I'm sure you can relate. But my mom would be in the kitchen on her hands and knees "mopping" the floor with a rag, a bottle of Clorox, and a toothbrush for hours. "It's the only way to really get it clean", she'd say.

My mom is also infamous (as in more than famous...ha ha ha! Name that movie!) for her Eagle Eye. Ask anyone in my family, and they'd agree. I don't know if it came from having three girls, and now four grandsons, but that woman has an uncanny knack for spotting things. Like when I was 6 and my sister was 8 and we accidentally somehow broke a tiny vase on the mantel with a bouncy ball. As soon as my mom walked in from work she zoomed in on it. But this is where it really kicks in: I get into cooking. 15 minutes after I clean up, my mom walks into the kitchen. "Gasp!" she said, "Is that a water droplet on my counter? Don't you know they can cause stains??" Or, while clothes shopping (which is a vice in and of itself, but we'll save that therapy for another post), "Sorry, baby, but we can't buy this. Can't you see that tiny nick of the thread? It'll unravel. Nope, that just won't do. And see how that button's about to come off? Yup, mark my words, in three washes that button will be gone."

So on to today. I'm going about my list, getting things checked off (because the Lord knows how much I love to check things off lists) and while vacuuming the kitchen, lo and behold, I spot a tiny something on the floor of the kitchen. Is that from last night's dinner? Or maybe last week's? Or, gulp, from the lady who lived here before?? (Ewwwwwww.)

Now, that just won't do!! So what's a girl to do? What any other would do - grab a Clorox wipe and wipe that sucker clean. Oh, but there's another little something on the floor right there. And what's that over there?

So after a little while I'm off to check off my list when I realize: I've been cleaning up random spots on the floor for an hour and a half. I basically mopped the kitchen (and hallway and bathroom) on my hands and knees with Clorox wipes. Yup, I'm definitely my mother's daughter.




(Editor's note: Granted, this is the first time this has happened in my life and I purposely rented a house without baseboards, but I'm sure Brent (or my mom) wouldn't mind in the least if I somehow ended up cleaning more. Yeah...good luck with that.)