Me. Lists. We have a thing. I love lists. I live for them. Give me a pen, paper, and an opportunity to itemize things and I can sit in a corner happy as a clam for a good couple o’ harvest seasons. I can trick myself into thinking a really arduous task is significantly less arduous simply by starting the job with making a list. And crossing things off a list? Pure rapture. I can only think of one thing I like better. Okay, two.
Yes, I am easily amused. Lists. Shiny things. Chocolate.
Yet I’m outrageously high maintenance. Go figure.
I may have mentioned in passing that my mother-in-law is coming to stay with us next week. For a week. And that is because Child B is graduating from high-school. (And we’re sure that the driver’s license can’t be far behind.)
Since my mother-in-law is coming, the house is being scrubbed to within an inch of its life.
Note: This is not because my mother-in-law is critical, snobby, demeaning or any other bad thing. She is lovely. But my mother-in-law keeps a spotless house. And by spotless, I mean spotless, speckless, stainless, streakless, splotchless and sparkling. And it’s not that she’ll come down here and criticize my housekeeping efforts, smack me upside the head with my own Martha Points blog or otherwise emotionally berate me for the questionable conditions under which I am keeping her son and grandchildren hostage. It’s that she will clean and I don’t want her to. She’s supposed to come down here to visit and relax. Not dust under my refrigerator.
So to the massive joy of my three teenagers, today was Spring Cleaning Day (insert fanfare, no confetti please).
And so that I could enjoy the day more, last night I made a list.
But the most amusing parts of this were when something got added on, Himself or the kids felt compelled to add it to the list JUST so they could cross it off. And then, if someone crossed off a job done by another member of the household, the worker-bee in question threw something of a conniption for having been denied the satisfaction of crossing the chore off the list.
There was actually MORE complaining over having your check-box checked for you than being coerced into cleaning toilets on a Saturday morning.
I am either winning huge or raising crazy people.
Maybe both? Hard to say.