The girls and I have always had an agreement; they could do whatever they wanted to in their bedroom as long as the mess did not extend into the shared living space. Often times, I would regret this arrangement, as much as it helped me with keeping the rest of the home clean, just opening the door to their bedroom would fill me with frustration. "What is that CD doing on the floor? Why are there crackers ground into the carpet? Isn't that your new coat getting stepped on?" Needless to say, this has been a point of contention between us.
During my extended illness things ballooned out of control. I didn't care what they were doing in their room; I had enough on my plate just going to work and keeping us fed. Over the past two weeks, I have worked diligently to get our home back up to the clean standard we used to enjoy in the pre-illness days. I scrubbed all the surfaces, moved furniture, cleaned blinds and baseboards and windows. Things are lover-ly.
But - to my horror of horrors - I had to have the cable guy out on Saturday morning. The poor guy had to wade through the detritus of the girls' slovenly habits to get to the cable line in their bedroom. I wanted the floor to crack open and me to fall straight in. I was soooo humiliated. He nearly fell over trying to step over stuff. I could hear stuff crunching under his feet. That's when I knew: it was time to tackle Hell Room.
So, when Grace and Emily got home from their dad's last night, we made a deal: I picked up trash, Grace picked up toys and Emily picked up dirty clothes. We cleaned that room from top to bottom, even going so far as to reorganize the closet. Now *I hope* the girls will have a much easier time keeping things clean.
Or the daily beatings will commence. (insert evil laugh here) Haa aha hah ahah ha ha hah!