One Second of Heaven when My House is Really Clean/Toilets are my friends

Everything comes back to the toilet. I think I spend a lot of time there, cleaning, sitting, reading, looking for lost things.

I cleaned today in a real way, not just wandering around moving the obvious clutter from one spot to another thinking that I've made it more organized. That's what I usually do. The kid weren't home and so I filled 3 bags with trash that they'll never even miss and if they do ask I'll say "We were Robbed?!" like it surprises me too.

Then I Lysoled my desk, the television stand, all the doorknobs, the floor and the computer tower. That last one seemed important like I was doing the computer a favor by keeping it germ free. I cleaned all the dust off the baseboards and vacuumed the corners. I vacuumed the pine needles that appear every day where I put the Christmas tree in the winter. I think of the never ending pine needles as my own on purpose potpourri and not sloppy cleaning 8 months ago. And I lifted the toilet seat, which if you know me at all, I never do because we are all girls here and it never occurs to me to lift the seat. Why would it be dirty under there? And it was!!!! I should clean it more often for all those toilet seat inspectors who stop by. You know who you are!

Then I sat on the couch to sit in my nice clean home. And took a deep breathe enjoying the lemony Clorox smell AND THE PHONE RANG and it was Haley asking if I'd pick her up. I took pictures before I left so that I can post them on the wall in the kitchen and when I ask her to pick up she can see what I mean by that. That popsicle sticks are actually trash. That shoes should not be kicked into the middle of the floor in front of the television, that pillows don't have to be jammed into the cracks of the couch, and that dirty dishes do not add to the decor. And that cobweb that magically appears above my wall art is not a part of it, bringing the outdoors inside and adding a three dimensional effect.

And sometimes I do lock myself into the bathroom and when one of the girls call for me I yell out "I can't help you. I'm taking a poo" when I'm just sitting on the toilet cover reading a book. Now when ever I escape to my reading room I'll think about the grime that has somehow attached itself to the underside of the seat and I'll still probably ignore it.