When Matt and I were away in Toronto one of the times we were in Toronto this fall, he talked to my mom on the phone at one point and told me that they had had no hot water, so she'd gone to shower at our house. If you have a mother anything like mine, you'll understand why this struck fear into my heart.
I saw her when we got back and mentioned that the woman who cleans for us was coming that evening. She said "how can she clean?" I looked at her blankly, and then she said "what IS all that stuff on your landing?" Oh, I thought, of COURSE, she means that because there are a few stacks of clothing and things along the sides of the wall on the landing, NOTHING in the house can be cleaned. I said rather shortly that the stuff was there to be sorted and left, slightly pissed off.
The next day, I looked at the landing and thought, in all fairness, it HAS been a while since I sorted through it. Through all of it, anyways - I frequently take things from the top layer to give to friends with slightly younger children or when OFCP or the Diabetes Association is coming by. But the bottom layer? Now that I was thinking about it, it was quite possible that the bottom layer hadn't seen any action for an embarrassingly long time.
So I brought it all downstairs and started making piles.
|Bathtub toys. My kids are fourteen and eleven.|
|It's possible my mother had a point.|
So I cleaned out the linen closet.
|Back to normal.|