Spring Cleaning = Play Time

"Why on earth are you wearing ski boots?"
"I'm cleaning."

I believe it would be safe to say that the vast majority of people in this world have another childlike version of themselves that tends to show up in certain situations. Maybe the sight of stamps causes a sudden flashback to the massive sticker collection of your youth. Or maybe that friendly game of checkers with Grandpa brings out the aggressive competitive nature of your varsity days (it doesn't matter if he's 95 and has a fake hip, you're undefeated and damnit it's going to stay that way!).

Besides anything with an underlying competetive nature (of which mine is extremely prevelent), the activity that brings out my inner child the most is, surprisingly, cleaning.

I, like many people, am horrible at cleaning. I want nothing to do with it. I get no joy from seeing a freshly scrubbed kitchen; I only dream of ways to dirty it up again. And cleaning for me takes forever. Why? I'll get to that.

Often, in his desperation, my boyfriend will resort to giving me small, simple tasks to do. He'll agree to clean the entire house if I just focus on one or two things (I know, right? Have I found myself a good man or what?!). So he'll ask me to clean out one room. Just one. That's all. Usually it's the closet. Just a closet, how hard can it be?

Um..................

Well... to put it bluntly? Effin' hard. The closet is packed with hazards, and my lack of focus combined with the new discovery of things I had completely forgotten about makes for some dangerous territory. Here's the breakdown:

1.) Box of old clothes I forgot I had. Commence imaginary fashion show. Try on 80's legwarmers, tutu, and leather vest.

2.) Clothes from even younger days. Remove old t-shirt I'm currently wearing and replace with 3 sizes too small hand-knit sweater from Grandma. Layer with leather vest from previous box. Add gelly shoes.

3.) Seasonal items. Remove gelly shoes and replace with ski boots. Add goggles.

4.) Holiday decorations. Add witch's hat and plug in Christmas lights. Stare at Christmas lights through goggles. Eat a piece of 6 year old Easter candy. Spit out candy.

This is usually when my boyfriend comes to check on me.

"What," he askes, "are you doing?"

"Cleaning."

"While wearing ski boots?"

"I'm a robot."

"You're not cleaning, you're playing. This looks worse than when you started."
"It gets worse before it gets better."
"That's only true with renovations. Are you saying you're renovating the closet?"
"Yes."
"Take off the goggles."
"No."
"You have a sandal hanging from your belt."
"It's my walkie-talkie. Yours is right here."
"You're standing on a pile of books."
"The ground is hot lava."

He takes his "walkie-talkie" and leaves. I continue.

5.) Box of broken electrical appliances I swear I'm going to recycle. Put aside.

6.) Box of old holiday cards and elementary school homework assignments. Sit down and go through 1st grade "What I want to be when I grow up" booklet. Laugh. That's clearly the wrong spelling of 'astronaut'.

7.) Box of games. Practice shuffling cards.

8.) Box of tools. Pretend to build a time machine out of the broken appliances found in box #5. Answer walkie-talkie. Keep it short the line is probably tapped.

9.) Box of old pictures. Go through them. Pay attention they could be a clue...

He returns, holding the other sandal. "My walkie-talkie doesn't work."

"I know. I gave you a faulty one. It was for your own safety."

"Ahh," he smiles. "Thanks for looking out."

Then he usually sits down with me as we reminisce over old pictures and love letters. Progress for the day comes to a halt, but that's okay. The closet can wait. At the end of the day I get to relive all the reasons why I have those boxes of junk, and it makes me incredibly content, appreciative, and grateful. Besides, thanks to my boyfriend I know the rest of the house is positively spotless.