When I was living at home I was a bit of a neat freak. I had my motivation though: if I didn’t clean it my mom would - which would give her the opportunity to snoop at the same time, and I KNOW she did. She would check every single nook and cranny for things that I shouldn’t have (like beer in my closet) or weed oregano under my bed. She found it, though she never took it, surprisingly.

I remember one time, about 13 years old - the time that all girls hate their parents, I had a journal where I wrote evil and hateful things. Things I couldn’t very well say to my mom’s face, because well - she’s my MOM. Anyway, one weekend when we were at my dad’s house she cleaned my room. I know because the journal that was buried at the back of my closet was suddenly sitting on my pillow awaiting my arrival.

I don’t know if I was more pissed off at the fact that I felt like she invaded my privacy or the shame I felt for writing such hurtful things about her. That’s when I learned that there’s no where safe to hide anything.

That story really has no merit to what I was actually going to talk about.

Blame it on the pregnancy brain - yeah still pregnant. 7 days to go!

Speaking of pregnancy brain (here I go again!) I had my Mother’s Day card in my car to deliver to my step-mom for about 2 weeks. When did she finally get it? THIS MORNING. I mailed my mom’s card this morning as well. But, it’s the thought that counts? Right. Please tell me it is!

So the actual topic for today, now that I’ve COMPLETELY lost you. (Hello? You still here!?)

I think my most favourite-est part of nearing the end of pregnancy is nesting.

How fabulous is it to completely nuts on cleaning your house? Seriously. Since I left home and haven’t had the motivation of my snooping caring mother I haven’t been as neat and tidy as I once was. Not to mention the fact that I live with a man(child) who is just about one of the dirtiest things I’ve ever seen. For instance, this morning (since he’s off work for the day) he got out of the shower and put on some shorts so that he could go to the basement to search the laundry for the pair that he really wanted to wear.Well, the shorts that were CLEAN and used only for the jaunt to the basement currently reside in a lump on the bedroom floor adjacent to the hamper. Does that mean their dirty already?

Back to nesting.

[My God this is going to take forever at this rate. CON-CEN-TRATE Sam Concentrate.]

Nesting.

This morning it hits me like a huge tsunami wave. Baby. Here. Less. Than. A. Week. SO MUCH TO DO.

[Let's PRAY it's less then a week, M'kay?]

After getting a pedicure and getting my nails done I came home and began cleaning like a mad woman.

I may or may not have even cleaned up my husband’s tools in the basement.

Fo R’il. (aka For. Real.)

Monday was our bedroom - baseboards, door frames, mirrors, ceiling fan, window sills, dust - OH. THE. DUST! I’ve been vacuuming just about daily and even cleaned the kitchen floor.

I wish I had this kinda ambition all the time. Dude, I could have the cleanest house around - even while living with the dirtiest man E-VAH!

Now I just wish there was a way to easily evict a tenant that just won’t leave.

[Yes, I'm talking about the bebe in mah belly.]

It wasn’t planned nor intended, but man it felt great! Taking a week off from the computer - Yes! computer, not just blogging - was a Godsend. I have doe so much around the house and even more shopping to complete things in need of completing prior to The Baby’s arrival: mind you there is a boat load of more things to be completed, but I’m far better off then I was a week ago.

Nesting instincts have begun to rear their (ugly) head. It’s really a catch 22 because I am supposed to be off work early to be resting but instead I’ve been like a little worker bee and running my hinney off for 5 straight days. I’m exhausted. But I figure the more I get done more, the more I can rest after - before baby, of course.

I almost feel as though I should be doing stuff rather then sitting around relaxing all day with Carter still in daycare and Mike working. With today being the first day I haven’t filled with tasks taking me out of the house, I’ve watched about 20 minutes of television (since daytime TV bites The Big One) and this chair at my desktop is already killing my lady bits. (I HAVE to get a wireless router soon - since work let me keep my laptop while I’m off! *wOOt* Then I can blog and design from just about anywhere - like my backyard!) I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself aside from reading all the great books that have been suggested and blogging.

I just feel guilty and bored.

Already.

I’ve only been off work for four days.

Nothing really new here - baby’s not early and I’ve just been ‘playing’ the dutiful housewife for the past couple days. But! I will be blogging more regularly, promise!

Oh, and I HATE my cat. Utterly despise him.

But that’s a story for tomorrow.

So Manchild came home with a filter last night for the furnace. BONUS! Finally I can bask in air conditioning. Wonderful, blissful, fantastic air conditioning. *twirling in circles* (tip: picture Sound of Music on the hilltop)

Picture this:

I get already for bed. Scratch that. Don’t think about me getting ready for bed. Pervs.

So I get my pajamas on (read: sweats and t-shirt cuz I’m so smokin’ hot like that), tie my hair back and hop into bed. Mike tags along bitching about how it’s not cooled down in here yet. The thermostat says it only gone down 2 degrees. Seriously? He’s complaining; even though it’s rather slow, the temperature is DECREASING! I don’t give a damn, it’s decreasing! I’m not going to complain.

Then.

BANG!

Whatthefuckisgoingonhere?! GeesusHChristwhatthehellwasthat?!

Mike said it sounded like the furnace.

[this is the sound of my heart breaking]

Me (in my best off Broadway performance yet): No! It. was. NOT! Go check it! Oh dear Lord, please, No! *on hands and knees atop the blankets in the middle of my bed* (Not like THAT! Sickos. Geez.) No! No! No! I want my air conditioning, I deserve my air conditioning!

*sigh*

Oh, there’s air. But from the fan only. No actual conditioning of the air. Just air.

*hangs head*

My beloved air.

I dunno what’s going on. I don’t know if that bang was the Ol’ Girl quitting on me.

*on knees, weeping* Oh! Dear! God! Don’t go! Stay with us Ol’ Girl! Stay with us! *looking to the sky* Please, don’t take her! I NEED her!! <— my second best off Broadway Performance.

*ahem*

The dudes are supposed to come back today and see what’s up. And this time, they’re doing in on MY time. None of this 11:00am crap like yesterday. (Though, I did have a very successful shopping trip yesterday afternoon, thankyouverymuch!)

Please pray for my air conditioner.

Oh, and while you’re at it, say a little diddy for my ceiling fan too. I don’t want him to feel left out; he’s been the staple holding this wack-job girl together for the last month.

Oh, did I mention? Satan invited me in for coffee (sadistic fucker). It’s a balmy 38C (100F) right now.

Because everything in her home is waterproof, the housewife of 2000 can do her daily cleaning with a hose. - from a 1950’s issue of Popular Mechanics

For serious?! A waterproof house that can be hosed down!?

What the shit!? Why haven’t I known about this until now?

For shame.

As I sit here, I am taunted by my filthy kitchen floor, beckoning for a wash, I am contemplating the hose. Seriously. I hate washing the floor.

There’s MUCH better things I’d rather be doing on my knees.

It’s just one of those tasks I just dread; kinda like putting away laundry. I am deemed to fail every time, destitute, absolutely hopeless.

I am far from a good housekeeper; surprisingly, really, since I hate filth.

Dishes will make it to the dishwasher, the kitchen will be cleaned, laundry washed.. but I fall short.
Yes, the clothes are clean, but they are strewn about the spare room as we fumble through the piles every morning in search for an article.
The bathroom counter appears clean, but is really only wiped with a Clorox cloth.
The stove? I haven’t cleaned out that oven ONCE since we moved here. In fact, I wipe the top of the stove off into the oven! Yup, all the crumbs are burnt to the bottom of my oven. If I’m lucky, they may have been completely incinerated by now. To tell you the truth I believe there may be reminisce still there of apple pie from Christmas.

Sad state of affairs in this house people. Sad.

But seriously!? A waterproof house!? They can develop a Roomba but not a waterproof house! Oh the humanity! (I really like Roombas. I want one. Please send money! Holy shit! A floor washing Scooba?! SEND MONEY NOW! My child’s health depends on YOU!) *ahem*

BUT before you call child services. The kid is fed, dressed and happy. The mess is hidden and somewhat concealed.

You’re efforts would be wasted. I can put on a good front.

Plus my stats counter will tell me where you are… if there’s a flaming bag of poop on your doorstep… it wasn’t me.

I want to hear your cleaning secrets… spill it in the comments people! Where do you cut corners?