Quinn and I are turning into cleanup demons after we finish our ice cream. Quinn helped me make Spaghetti and Soy Balls tonight, and polished off quite a bit, as well as his peas and carrots. While I am most pleased with his helpfulness, there is an equation at work:
Daddy + Quinn + spaghetti sauce + soy ground-beef substitute + oil + spices + egg + crumbled saltines + mixer + hot stove + enthusiasm and zest + various utensils = kitchen go boom.Be afraid. Be very afraid. Let's run down the complete damage report shall we:
- Bedroom: clean clothes and bed linens in one clothes basket, some clean folded clothes piled up on top of the gun safe, dirty clothes thrown in corner of bedroom.
- Kitchen: see above. At least the dishes in the dishwasher are clean. Let the record state: I did hand wash several things. A couple of Quinn's toys out of place.
- Dining room: paper clutter, two laptops on table, two Disk Doctor cleaning wheels (Disk Doctor apparatus itself is AWOL). Dinner dishes set aside for ice cream.
- Living Room: island is covered with papers, books, magazines. Somehow Quinn's tricycle landed here and never left. Two beach balls. Stack of CD's Candice got out for the party still on speaker. Why is there a PS/2 Wheel mouse lying ON THE SOFA? And a clean pull-up on the back of the chair? Why is there a straw hat on the floor?
- Hallway: one wal-mart bag with some sort of contraption Pam was going to put on Quinn's bed, but we had to rush to get her packed and on a train.
- Quinn's room: clean clothes on bed; dirthy clothes on floor; toys everywhere; a couple of crates that fell out of the closet while I was searching for bedding yesterday. It's bad.
- Second bedroom: actually not bad; sheets need to be stripped, and we still have the various crates and boxes of camping gear from last year's trip and other miscellanea that has never been unpacked since we moved in.
- Basement: multiple medium-orderly piles of papers that represent months of things to "file, act, or dispose" upon...must talk to Sheyla about not assuming that "on floor" is eqivalent to "trash." Had to rescue several prescription receipts from the outgoing recycled paper this morning--until those things get filed with our Flexible Spending Account provider they're essentially unclaimed cash. Sigh.
- Laundry room: it's a laundry room, okay? let's just move on.
- Garage: moving right along, then, what say?
Love you all!
