Finding Jimmy Hoffa But Losing My Mind aka Cleaning The Teen’s Room

I bet Mary never had to put up with this crap from Jesus. No sirree, I bet that boy’s room was spic and span from the get-go. A clean room and he could walk on water (not to mention that whole water into wine thing)?  I challenge you to top that with your hooligans!  Not so with my teenage son, His Awesomeness. Granted, I am not what you’d call domestically gifted. The sink is overflowing with dishes as I type this.  I hate to clean and I see no harm in there being a foot’s worth of dust accumulated on most surfaces. Hey, it gives the Co-Defendants a place to doodle (and it saves trees to appeal to the environmentalist crowd).  Besides, disturbing all those resting dust mites is bad for my health. Ahem.

Most times I am content to simply keep his door shut but being on a feel-good, post-acupuncture high, I had energy to spare and attitude to match.  Behold.

Jimmy, Jimmy, wherefore art thou, Jimmy Hoffa?

Are you hiding under the blankets, Jimmy?

Are you squashed under the beanbag, Jimmy my boy?

You know it’s a dump when the dog doesn’t even want to enter The Pit.  She sits at the door and gives us the look that says I’ll never crap on the carpet again just get me outta here!  Trust me sweetheart, in there, they’d never know.  Poop away.

So in roughly two and a half hours, I accomplished this…

Sweet mother of pearl, look y’all, it’s CARPET!  I bless my Nana in heaven for the gift of the Kirby vacuum cleaner because one of those wussy-assed Dyson’s wouldn’t have lasted in here.  And look here…

Shudders of domestic bliss, it’s space, yes SPACE under the bed!  Who says cleaning can’t give you a tingle like leaning up against the washer during the agitator cycle?!  Oops, did I type that!

And those DS chargers that he can never find and, meanie mom that I am, I make him pay for himself to replace?  Yes, I found them, too…ALL OF THEM!

I wish you could’ve seen the look on his face when he got home from school and saw what my hands had wrought.  It was probably the same look I had on mine when I opened up this little baby…

What, it’s educational software, I can hear you intone.  Oh, you simpleminded nincompoop!

He didn’t even have the good sense to look chagrined.  I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t Ron Jeremy’s Hitlist of Hottest Porn Highlights.  I will say, the lad is quite clever.  Takes after his mother.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  How’d you find space for all that shit treasure?  Simple, I pitched it in the garbage.  Four empty boxes, three garbage bags, one full box and a partridge in a pear tree.  You know I’ve lost it when I can sing about it.  I also managed to find half his wardrobe in amongst the blankets and pillows on the bed.  All dirty, naturally.

I can hear my mother saying something about me being just like him when I was younger.  Button it, G. Ma!  Not a word.  Yes, I was a packrat, however, no one needed a tetanus booster just to get into my childhood room.  I’m surprised this little escapade didn’t require a passport, I dug through so much crap.  I give the results of today a 25% chance of lasting through the weekend, although, I’ve already made my threat of vacuuming up those friggin’ Legos with my trusty Kirby!  He’s a bit put out with me and I had to lie color the truth a tad when I said Heck no I didn’t throw anything away.  I just filed it.  Say what you will, but I’m convinced that little white lies in the name of preserving humanity and the family line are totally worth it.  You think this doesn’t qualify as life changing?  Sugar buns, have you ever stepped on a Lego in the dark of night?  Makes you want to commit a homicide, my friend.  See, preserving humanity.  You’re welcome.