Tuesday afternoon, and I’m up to my kneecaps in the next thing on my list of things to do this week: Clean Out The Pantry.
For those of you just tuning in, I have the week off as a result of a company-wide shutdown. Big Willie is working, so it’s just me, a to-do list of my own making, and the kitties.
You wish you were here, don’t you?
Cleaning out any closet-like area always uncovers things you forget you had – or things you don’t recall ever having purchased.
Where did this can of pickled Serrano peppers come from? Why did I ever buy a krumkake iron? When was the last time I used the fondue pot? Have I yet, in my life, made a bundt cake; and if I have, why do you suppose I have two bundt cake pans? Why do I have a can of government pumpkin?
These are the questions that occupy one’s mind when one finds one’s self at home during the day, over-using the word “one” and wondering what is that on the floor under the microwave, anyway? Who knows? But a couple lines of Comet and either it cleaned up or I no longer cared if it came up, one of the two.
OK. So I didn’t really snort a line of Comet. I didn’t even really imagine doing it, which is saying something, because I imagine a lot of things.
Rumors of my snorting Comet whilst in the throes of pantry-cleaning-ecstasy have been exaggerated.
So here I am, end of the day; and I’ve been through a half-can of Comet, two rags, three cans of Fresca, and however many brain cells I lost while taking a lunch break during “The Maury Show”.
But everything’s clean now. The pantry has been scrubbed clean of mystery schmutz; the Maury Show (followed by 30 minutes of Judge Alex) has ensured that my brain has been scrubbed clean of firing neurons; and tomorrow is another day.
This “time off” thing is over-rated.
Tomorrow? Floor scrubbing, yoga at noon and then an afternoon of writing interspersed with iPod grooving, kitty-petting, and a little detective work.
Why the detective work?
The camper that sat across the street for a month last summer is back.
4 hours ago