the hub cheerfully informed me that this is his last day in the office for the week. and what does that mean?
"we're gonna clean this house from top to bottom! whoo-hoo! aren't you excited, babe?"
i don't know if you know this about me, but i fucking hate cleaning. like, i despise it. with a passion. i'm a terrible housekeeper and always have been. in my defense, though, it's what i like to call "organized chaos." i know where all my shit is, even if i have little piles of stuff here and there. ask me where this month's electric bill is? i'll pull it out within seconds. the teen's most recent school pics? easy peasy.
but the hub, who's completely anal about keeping everything neat and dust/cobweb-free, goes absolutely nuts over this. this is the man who's got his closet organized by type AND color. the very same man who i dubbed "groomzilla" when we were planning our wedding, as every. last. detail had to be run by him for approval.
i often remind him that he knew this about me when he married me. and his usual comeback is "well, that goes the same for you." and then we're at a deadlock until he finally starts cleaning and i follow suit, grumbling and bitching and moaning the whole time (me, that is).
and i love, love, love when he has time off from work and can spend it with us. but knowing that he's going to be on my ass to clean the fridge/kitchen/hall closet/whatever else isn't up to his pristine standards, i'm gonna try and gear up for it and get all my whining and grumbling out of the way. heh.
give me strength.