Last night I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. Yeah, okay, this is not an earth shattering experience and not all THAT rare, even - although back in the day if I started cleaning up my son would excitedly ask me who was coming over - but I would just like to take this opportunity to shamelessly shill for Mr. Clean. Mr. Clean is The Man, y'all, he is The Shit, he is as a god with his cute little twinkly earring and all. Mr. Clean works. He gets the floor actually clean, which is way more than can be said for the hippy green cleaner I used last time, and his magic erasers actually erase stuff off the stove and all in all my kitchen is so clean that I probably shouldn't ever go into it again. Ditto the bathroom. The rest of the house, not so much, but perhaps this weekend I will find the strength to fix the fucking vacuum cleaner AGAIN and get everything all sparkly nice.
In other news I'm still coughing and blowing my nose and so is the QOB. I went over there yesterday morning to see how she was faring in our 2" of snow blizzard and while she is better, she is also still coughing and blowing her nose. I gave her some turkey casserole and a couple of chocolate banana cookies and she was happy. One of these days I am fairly confident that this sickness will all just be an unpleasant memory (she said while knocking nervously on wood.) This is a good thing when you consider that last week, while I was confident of living in my house for the rest of my life, it seemed eminently possible that the rest of my life would be, like, 36 hours long. Barring the unforeseen proverbial runaway bus type thing, I think now it might be more like 36 years. Well, maximum anyway.
Oh and the washer and dryer are working, almost! The dryer is perfect. The washer is unhappy because there is no cold water going into it. Why is there no cold water going into it? I do not know; it's just another one of those plumbing mysteries. It's a fairly important and annoying plumbing mystery, because I tend to dress in persnickety black cotton clothes that respond to hot water by becoming 1/2 their original size, which is really bad for somebody who has been making way too many cookies lately but I think it is a solvable and please please not too expensive problem. However, my amateur opinion is that it probably will involve cutting more holes in the drywall where we cut holes before. Perhaps I should just give up on having drywall at all and call that whole area a plumbing art installation.