That is my shower floor. Yes. It looks bad. Yes. I have embedded mold between the tiles. Yes. I should be embarrassed. But yes, I do live in Florida. Trust me when I tell you that I do clean my shower. Not often enough, obviously, but more than never.
That's a pretty low bar, isn't it?
Moving on. Today has been another weird one. Not because I took a walk and thought I might be dying but because, well- take for instance the fact that it is six o'clock and I just sat down here to write when my absolutely-engraved-in-stone schedule that I live and die by, is that I sit down at five o'clock to answer comments and then write a new post. Yet, somehow today despite looking at the clock, I suddenly realized that it was not almost five o'clock, it was instead almost six.
Alright. That's just one thing.
I would never, ever normally scrub grout with a toothbrush. If bleach doesn't get it done, it doesn't get done. So here's what happened- I decided to let Ralph vacuum my bathroom. Because my bathroom is elevated too much for Ralph to climb on his own, I have to actually place him in it. And I have stuff on the bathroom floor that I need to move somewhere else so he has access to the entire room. Rugs, baskets- you know. So I moved all that stuff out and then I looked at the sink and also the cabinet that the sink is built into which is a lovely vintage wood piece that was here when I got here. Mr. Moon replaced the sink in it but the cabinet is the same.
And I thought, "Hmmm...when was the last time I dusted and oiled that thing?"
Who knew? Not me.
So I decided to do that. Which involved gathering cleaning and dusting products and bringing them to the bathroom and taking everything off the cabinet and dusting the things that needed dusting and throwing away the things that needed throwing away and then oiling the wood and then replacing the things...
That took awhile.
And then, because there is also a dresser in my bathroom, I cleaned it off and dusted and oiled it. There is also an old, small, junky cabinet in the bathroom that I sort of attempted to tidy and I moved it out from its space so I could sweep under it and the amount of dust there was rather horrifying. So I took care of that.
Then I worked on the shower and cleaned my sink.
At this point I felt that I could let Ralph in and he took over for me, vacuuming under the tub and so forth.
Meanwhile, I decided that I might as well clean Mr. Moon's sink and the cabinet it's in, another vintage wooden piece although he bought this one just for the purpose and in fact, built his entire bathroom around it. I'd show you a picture of that but I feel that it would be an invasion of his privacy so I won't.
By the time I got that all nice and dust-free, Ralph was finished with my bathroom so I mopped the floor because hell- why not? And when I went to put all the things back into their places on the floor, I remembered that the side porch which the bathroom opens onto was covered in leaves and that I needed to sweep it and I did.
It was after three o'clock by then. I was also doing a little laundry and around four I made a loaf of bread (not sourdough) and set it to rise and then I chopped and peeled and stirred and stirred and made a gumbo.
And somehow in there, it was an hour later than I thought it was and here we are.
I am obviously not in my right mind. At this point, I am not sure I have a right mind.
I am sure that I am tired and glad that supper is made except for baking the bread and cutting up the shrimp to go in the gumbo.
I am also not in a good mood which is probably why I started cleaning in the first place. I usually only clean when I'm in a bad mood because cleaning is going to put me in one anyway so why waste an already bad mood without getting something accomplished?
Does that make sense to you?
Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. It's Levon and August pick-up day and so I will have a task and a purpose which goes beyond the removal of icky dust and mold and mildew. It will also be a lot more fun. Maybe we can play Go Fish and if we do, you'll read it here first.