Thursday, July 19, 2012

Pre/Concurrent/Post Apocalyptic Meltdown

I have them. Some weeks, lots of them. They are not fun for anybody involved, and they usually develop because I have had it up to my twee little eyebrows over something I've been yattering about for days/weeks/months/years (pick your timeline, we've covered them all).

Dishes: That includes all of the dishes in the sink, on the counters, on the stove, in the oven, and (my personal favorite) every single dish, fork, spoon, knife, cup, glass, and coffee mug left on the table. They're on the table because the Banshees think it a quaint and outdated custom to carry dirty dishes from the table to the sink. ("Oh, mom, that's SO 20th century!")

Housekeeping: No, this isn't an interesting variation on the obstacle course. You aren't supposed to dodge the debris on the ground with the vacuum cleaner, you're supposed to pick it up and put it in the trash and then vacuum over the area the debris previously occupied. That cute little hose attached to the vacuum cleaner is not merely a decorative item, it's actually used to pick up dust in the corners that the vacuum cleaner proper cannot reach. And yes, I do require the dining room chairs to be moved now and again so you can clean under the dining room table. Nobody's eyebrows should need removing from their hairline over being exposed to such concepts for the zillionth time.

Laundry: Okay, do I really need to point out that the laundry cycle does not involve in any way, shape, or form the floor as a method of storage. It just doesn't. I've never once included the following instructions: Wash, dry, toss onto bedroom floor, repeat. Those tall rectangular items we stashed in your rooms are know as dresser drawers in our neck of the woods, and they've been known to function as clothing storage in a pinch, NOT just as a tall flat surface to store your works of art (high altitude dust bunnies, who knew?).

Rooms: I think I remember what color the carpeting was in there. I'd like to be reminded of it now and again.

And good grief, could we please remember that if you're going to forgo following any and all of the previous advice, there is absolutely no reason to look shocked when your immediate maternal ancestor starts screaming like a piccolo in a high gale?

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