Clean the Floors, Cinderella

Let me start by saying that everything on Blogger looks different today, so i hope this post....posts. I am a messy person. I always have been. I'm kind of a wreck. But part of the "Brooke turns over new leaves" plan (which includes quit smoking, lose weight, throw away old clothes, be on time to things and write more) is "Be neater and have respect for your possessions." Now, respecting possessions does not equal being mateialistic and placing a higher value on objects over people and time and exeriences, but it does mean taking care of and having pride in the things you own. This is something my father would have been extremely proud of me for thinking. (Sidenote: A week or so ago I was saying something to my mom and she said, "That's what your father always used to say." I'd never heard him say it before, didn't even know he had that philosophy on life. Strange all the ways the dead come back to haunt us isn't it?) Respect for posessions, space and home began with a trip to True Value (seeing me shop at a hardware store also would have made my daddy proud, hardware stores were his second home. Dust and freshly sawed wood and mild cologne and mild vodka and fabric softner...that's what my dad always smelled like) I was there to buy bathroom cleaning supplies. Seventeen dollars got me a roll of paper towels, some Tilex, a hardcore scrubbing brush, and a serious bottle of foaming Draino. I was gonna fix that clogged drain or die trying. You can think whatever you want of her, and I'm not as big a fan as I used to be, but there is no better music for scrubbing mildew out of your bathroom floors than Ani Difranco. She angstily yelled stories at me all about everyone who's ever left her as I Tilexed the floors. Then she crooned softly about the sad state of America as I sang along in agreement while polihing the hardware of my toilet. Oh, Ani DiFranco, life is so so hard. The bathroom finally shimmered with the dull streaky finish that I call "clean". It looked to me like a very sick person trying to smile, "Good Job, Brooke!" It lied the way a mother lies, with as much support as possible but also with the exhausted look on it's face that comes with knowing it will have to be re-done. Bathroom, glorious. Rest of the house, a little frightening. At work today I thought all about finishing the cleaning job and how peaceful it would be to relax in a nice collected tidy house. From what I understood they were going to start showing my apartment next week so I wanted it to be in good shape. Home. Door. A note..."We had planned on showing your apartment today but your house was too messy, please hve it cleaned ASAP so that we can show people." was the gist of it. "Please grow up you disgusting piglet" was how I read it. Dad would not have been proud. I cleaned for a while until downstairs neighbor got annoyed with the creaky floor and gave me the old broom to the ceiling. I just can't win in this place. So I am now going to go to sleep and "wake up" at "6am" to continue "cleaning".. Yeah, we'll see how that goes.