The kitchen is the first place to get away from me. My dishwasher stopped working and I thought, well, shoot! I can do them by hand and my nails won;t look so grubby. How hard could it be?
Obviously harder than I thought. Mike, who rarely says anything to me about my housekeeping, mentions what a wreck the kitchen was. I went in, got a shot and promptly came home. It always takes me a little bit to settle down so I washed the dishes. Cleaned the counters. Took all the mugs out and bleached them. Cleared one counter. Moved some of my cookbooks around. Washed more dishes that were already clean in the cupboard. Cleaned off another counter. Got my steamer out and steam cleaned the counters and the backsplash. Took the curtains down and tossed them in for tonight’s wash ( I only wash at night because air conditioning is more important). Dragged my little ladder into the kitchen so I could wash the window. Washed all the stuff I keep on the sill.
And came to a screeching halt. I was so tired, I couldn’t figure out how to get myself a glass of milk with ice, so I fixed lunch and now I’m going to take a nap. When I wake up, all the cupboard shelves get wiped down, all the dishes get put back and then I’m washing and moving all my good glasses to my china hutch. But right now?