Not your father’s procrastination

My wife calls from work to tell me about an e-mail from those looking out for my best interests that I had a post way overdue for Clean Freak Confessions. Oops! I think, listening carefully to determine whether or not my napping son is still asleep. I look over at my laptop, then stare at a kitchen full of dishes dirtied by an unnecessarily elaborate picnic lunch I’d made for the kids. . .

Once the kitchen counters are sparkling and the sink is emptied of dishes, I stare at my laptop again and notice all the dog hair on the rug. Ah, the sound of  the vacuum. It’s wonderful for drowning out the nagging voice of responsibility.

Once my wife returns from work and gives me a little time alone with the laptop, I sit in the lounge chair and just stare at the screen. What more is there to say? How much more mom porn can I write?  Yes, I love cleaning. Even I am annoyed at myself by now. Even revealing how messy our basement is doesn’t seem to make me any less annoying. I scratch behind my beloved German Shorthaired Pointer’s ear. What’s this? A strange bump! Upon closer inspection, I find a tick swollen with blood, twitching its disgusting little legs. It is nearly the size of a fingernail. I weigh my options: I could keep trying to write a post for Clean Freak Confessions, or I could go into full-on tick battle mode.

Like it’s really even a choice! I think, rolling up my sleeves.

The smell of burning dog hair fills the air; my fingers strike matchstick after matchstick; the dog twitches in reflexive fear. Soon half a dozen tick corpses litter the floor. I have to make sure that I’ve gotten all the ticks, so I investigate every inch of my dog’s scalp (including an awkward foray into his nether regions that I’d rather not think about ever again). Now there are scattered clumps of dog hair on the floor, so out comes the vacuum again. The thought of all those dead ticks on the floor is really bothering even after I’ve vacuumed them up so I check again to make sure they’re really all gone and then I mop where they were just in case there’s any tick juice I can’t see. Then I take the dog outside to hose him down and apply a few fistfuls of anti-flea and tick shampoo. Leaving him dripping and staring mournfully at me as I rush inside to check the kids for ticks. Thankfully there are none, but I ponder giving them a bath with J&J’s No More Ticks shampoo anyway.

Once I’ve ensured that my family is tick free, I look out the window at a wet dog and then I look again at my laptop.  The dog has been doing that stupid wet dog shake right next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. My brain is thinking Windex, but I force myself to sit down to write this post.

The dog is still staring at me. I know he’s pooped a couple times out in the backyard since I last stumbled around out there with an upturned plastic bag in my hand.

There’s an empty bag of potting soil out there too. Now I see some grubby fingerprints on the inside glass.

I stare at my laptop. Then I get up to grab the plastic bags and the window cleaner.

This entry was posted on Friday, June 5th, 2009 at 11:57 am and is filed under Main, Outdoor Cleanin, Pet Clean Up. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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