Leaving Oz

The Empty (but Cleaner) Nest

I have a powerful urge to clean house.  Without my teenager daughter's charisma in the house, I don't want her chaos.  So, from Day 1, I've been erasing at least the messiest reminders of her.

She was never a tidy child.  Her room was her own wild space.  Her college admissions essay told the story of "cleaning her room" with a friend, but really dumping everything in the closet and only sorting it out years later.

Partly my reasons are charitable.  In three weeks, when she returns from her wilderness experience with other freshmen, I'll join her at college for orientation.  I'm bringing her computer and printer, and have room to throw in anything really essential that she's left behind.  (And yes, some of this clutter will be passed on to Hope Services or Goodwill.)

Soaking Swim Trunks Can Be Dangerous

No, I'm not moving.  That is not why the cabinets under the sink are empty.  And no, there wasn't a break-in committed at our house.  There is a logical explanation to why all the drawers have been pulled out and everything is gone.

You see, it's summertime.  TJ finally got to sport his new Thomas The Tank Engine swim trunks.  I forgot to wash them the day before when I peeled them off him.  So, now they smell a bit like dried chlorine. 

And what I love to do often is what I call "soaking".  Soaking is my secret household weapon that Hubby continually finds baffling. 

"Can I help wash these dirty dishes in the sink?"  Hubby likes looking at an empty, cleaned up sink.

"They're soaking.  I'll get to them."  Soaking is used when I'm multi-tasking around the house.

"Um, what about this wet shirt in the bathroom sink?" Hubby hollers from upstairs.

"Yeah, those are soaking too." Oh, shoot.  I need to scrub that stain out before it actually disintegrates the one shirt I love.

"But, weren't they soaking here earlier this morning?" Uh.. oops.