Not knowing quite how I wanted to attack the absolutely necessary monumental task ahead of me, I thought opening windows for fresh air would be a good first step. When I went upstairs it was impossible to walk to the windows, so I started from the doorway sorting the sculpture tools and supplies in The Bedroom Formerly Occupied By Mike. It is now the Teen AP Sculpture Studio, and littered with dangerous sharp objects. It also houses a front seat from a Geo Prizm draped with a coat purchased at Goodwill for fifty cents, heaven knows why, the box containing the artificial Christmas tree, a giant speaker from a Dodge Intrepid, and the heaps and stacks belonging to its former occupant. (Allow twenty minutes. Extra credit for keeping blood pressure low in the presence of the car seat.)
One window opened!
From the Teen Studio, I was able to cross into the bathroom to find a rag for dusting--while just squinting my eyes to avoid the view. Threw gross towel and bathmat in hamper.
Two windows opened!
After a low-intensity dusting of certain surfaces of the Teen Studio, I was able to bring two more sculptures upstairs from the living room. The coffee table won't be visible for quite awhile. Figured as long as I was washing the towels, I would do the Teen Sculptor's sheets and blankets. Hauled the laundry hamper downstairs and started first load. Had to go back through the Teen Studio, because the Teen Bedroom is still impassable. (Allow fifteen minutes. Do not breathe deeply during this phase.)
Brought up trashbags and the vacuum. Moved enough shoes, photo frames, and books to reach the window.
Third window opened!
(Aerobic edge is lost while standing there staring at the huge mass of black shoes. Avoid this temptation.) Stack and push enough free weights, car stereos, footballs and soccer balls around so that the floor is visible for vacuuming. Retrieve empty hangers from the closet. Neatly line up the packages of Triskets, pretzels, Girl Scout Thin Mints, and banana chips. Take hangers downstairs, and switch laundry loads. Vacuum up huge toenail clippings, disappointing future archaeologists who hoped DNA would prove the existence of woolly mammoths into the twenty-first century. Haul vacuum back downstairs, cleaning the stairway carpet as I go. (Allow twenty-five minutes. Bonus points given for not swearing with the windows open.)
I'm feeling sure I have lost five pounds in the first hour, but I can't go in my bathroom to weigh myself. I need to clean that room first!
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