Giving the house a full, deep-down clean is so cathartic, and you find so many great pairs of earrings that you'd forgotten you had, that I wonder why I don't do it more often, and then I remember that, oh yes, it's work. And I'm lazy.
But every once in a while, a girl gets a jonesin' to clean things. I dusted today, people. I got on my HANDS AND KNEES and scrubbed the kitchen floor! Ok, for reals though, our kitchen floor is about four feet by four feet. So we're talking thirty seconds work, here. But on my HANDS AND KNEES! I vacuumed! The last time Joel vacuumed, a piece fell out of the vacuum and we didn't know where to put it back. Today I found out that, fortunately, that was the piece that had kept the head from pivoting up and down, which in turn was what had kept me from vacuuming more often because how irritating is that. Unfortunately, that was also the piece that kept the top plastic bit ON the head, so it kept popping off and then the brush would jump out and I would scream a little.
In related news, I think I'm losing my ass. I used to do lunges around my section at Red Robin on slow nights, and Sabrina would tell me that I was really just melting off what little ass I had, but I'm sure it worked because all my pants stayed up in those days. I have this great pair of dark jeans that I love, but whenever I sat down they would creep their way south and my little bum crack would peek out. So I bought a belt. The other day, I was rushing to the bathroom and, realizing that I didn't have time to undo my belt AND pants, just slipped the whole deal down over my no-hips. I didn't used to be able to do this. There was a point when I had sufficient ass to hold up my pants. Today, as I bustled around cleaning, my LuLu Lemon pants (which are TOtally supposed to be a brassiere for your behind) were hanging on for dear life.
I asked Joel when he got home if he thought my ass was disappearing. He pulled his head out of the fridge long enough to reply, 'You didn't know?' and then to ask if we had chips. This is the kind of man I married, the kind who wouldn't tell me if a vital part of my body had vanished. I could lose an eye next, and he wouldn't speak up.
Mind you, this is the same man who called me his little elf the other day, and then when I stared at him blankly, said it was because of my ears, and when I stared at him some more, said it was because if he put little points on my ears, I'd look like an elf.