We’ve got crumbs. Tips anyone?
I am by no stretch of the imagination a Neat Freak, but neither am I a slob. I enjoy the Victorian (cluttered) aesthetic, so we’re those neat-plies-everywhere-too-much-furniture-in-a-small-space kind of people, and our house is never going to achieve that modern, sparse, super clean look. I know that. That said, when I do get down to cleaning, I’m pretty particular about what I deem clean. I have my Mom and Dad to thank for that—do it once, do it right! A high standard to begin with, that standard was elevated when I was at my best friend’s house one time and we had to get at the back of their VCR to adjust the cables and people—I kid you not—there was no—NONE, ZERO, NOT AN OUNCE—of dust back there. None. And it’s not like she was expecting us to move her entertainment unit; she just keeps it like that all the time.
Granted, this was before she had a kid. And before I had a kid, I would vacuum every week, and every time I would clean the baseboards, under the stove, behind the fridge; I’d vacuum the picture frames, the bookshelves, and all the little nooks and crannies that gather dust in an old home. And then we had that aforementioned baby, and well, we were tired, we had our hands full (literally) and things began to slip.
And then Baby turned into a Toddler. Toddles likes to eat Cheerios (or as we like to call it, Baby Kibble), and for every Cheerio he gets in his mouth about 8 land on the floor. Five of those Addie will eat, which leaves about 3 that I’ll eventually get to picking up along with an apple Toddles has bitten into twice then rolled under the couch, a yogurt cup Toddles has given to the dog to lick, a cookie, some of last night’s chips, etc, etc.
Do you see where I’m going? My house is not as clean as I would like it to be. It bothers me. It does. Especially since I read this article about how many home kitchens would fail a restaurant health inspection because I thought—oh god!—they’re talking about me! But honestly, I’d rather spend time with my buddy and Hubby than be cleaning all the time, so, yes, things have slipped. I clean enough to keep me sane—I only vacuum once every 1-2 weeks, so I sweep regularly. I tidy toys several times a day so we’re not tripping, we clean the counters, we wash the dishes. But can I remember the last time I cleaned between the rungs of the radiator? Have I dusted the ceiling fan lately? No. When those things finally really make me crazy, I clean them. But yes, things have slipped.
So where am I going with this….well. I’m going to confide in you, internet, and admit something that I’m pretty damn embarrassed about. But first, a video.
There’s this m-m-mouse in my apartment.
If you do not feel for this guy you have no soul. That, or you’ve never had a mouse. This one didn’t eat my bread (in fact, we can’t find anything it’s actually eaten), but it pooped on my counters, in my pots and on my new Kitchen Aid mixer. Yes, we have a mouse. A mouse that is commenting on my skills as a housekeeper. A mouse that is driving me bat sh*t crazy. I’ve laid out traps, I’ve cleaned every surface in the house, but I still get that crazed look like this poor sap waiting to find the next black rice pellet that signals the mouse is. still. ALIVE. First thing I do when I wake up is search for the little suckers—on my hands and knees with a flashlight, looking, inspecting every stray coffee ground, kiwi seed and speck of dirt. And when I find them, as I inevitably do, I get angry. Angry she’s not dead. Oh, and I want her dead. I used to think I was one of those humane trap sort of gals, but now—oh no. This disgusting, disease carrying, little jerk is going DOWN. Do you hear me?! No more pooping wherever you please! No more pooping on my beautiful mixer. NO MORE POOPING IN THE GODDAMN TRAP, okay? We’re going to get you. And revenge is going to be sweet.