Not Really a Goldmine, Quite the Opposite Really

My house was beginning to resemble a sty.  Sincerely.  I even think the The Bandit’s nose was starting to pucker up like a snout.  It will be bulk trash pick up this week at the Bright Compound, so My Honey was out cleaning up the yard and the terrifying area behind the shed in the back.  There’s black widows back there, and there isn’t a book deal big enough for me to go back there and mess around with them. 

I opted for inside the house.  I dusted and vacuumed and steam cleaned the carpet.  I washed windows and disinfected.  I mopped.  That is significant because in our pre-marriage counseling,  it was well documented that I don’t mop.  I would rather clean the toilets than mop.  Don’t ask me why, the second chore is infinitely more disgusting and icky, but nevertheless, I REALLY hate mopping, but I did it.  It’s better than black widows.

Because I was going to steam clean the carpets, I also moved all the furniture and did a really good vacuuming job.  I even used the attachments to clean inside the couch and chair.  Perhaps this particular job should be done more often.  This is what I found in the living room furniture:

194 crayons of various lengths, 73 cashews, a Pez dispenser (empty), the missing telephone that now has a dead battery, a bread bag with 2 pieces of stale bread (thank you Roscoe), countless rubber bands, vacuum resistant glitter, 1 really big ass rock, 1/2 eaten apple, a shriveled but unpeeled tangerine (I think), 12.52 in various coins but mostly pennies, and 1 neighbor kid whom I sent home with the cashews.

Maybe I should have picked the spiders.