Because my two-weeks' notice technically ends on Thanksgiving Day (and believe me, I'm grateful), I specified in my resignation letter that my last day would be December 2, giving the company a day shy of three weeks' notice. As of today, though, I have 13 days left.
In other news, I have dignity; therefore, I did not photograph my house for today's post.
I live in a filthy, stinking pit. It's a nice house, don't get me wrong, but the carpets are manky, the trim in the rooms with Pergo is unfinished (especially noticeable in the hallway), we have Giant Cobwebs of Doom hanging from the cathedral ceiling in the living room, and the bathrooms don't usually get scrubbed until I realize I'm not willing to use the sink to wash my hair.
I could go on, but I refer you to my aforementioned dignity.
I would love to defer the impending cleansing until I am employed only part-time; however, I invited everyone over for Thanksgiving Dinner, and I fear they'd refuse to dine if they saw my house in its current state. My plan is to divide the rooms among our home's inhabitants and assign each person the task of making their room perfect (including dusting!) and maintaining perfection through Thanksgiving.
The worst is the front room, our library. All the books actually live in the Living Room, but we call it the library anyway. It's strewn with papers, mail, magazines, books and worse from my desk and DH's. It's also housing a bathroom vanity, my daughter's bicycle, and a drawer full of computer parts; its home chest takes up garage space. That room will belong to Mark and I jointly. Mostly because he does not approve of my method of cleaning up his stuff. He disagrees about what constitutes trash.
The living room ostensibly is in much better shape. There are only two major surfaces to purge, and those can be done quickly. The sofa cries out for its cleaned cover to protect it from our nasty dog, and the bookshelves haven't been dusted in at least a year; otherwise, it's mostly cluttered with stuff that has a home but never gets put away. That room will belong to Julia.
The kitchen and breakfast area are easy to clean; everything has a home, and if people would just stop cooking and eating, we'd have no trouble keeping it clean. Burgundy will be responsible for this area. She knows where all the utensils, bowls, etc go, an important trait in consideration of next week's cooking frenzy.
The bathrooms are revolting. Honestly. Because I don't want Julia to know just how gross ours is, I'll assign their bathroom to her, and our master bathroom to Burgundy.
Finally, there is the fine layer of grodey dog hair that covers everything we own. I'm so sick of the dog. I'm sick of his hair, his stench, his appetite for dirty panties and socks, his oops-i-ate-too-quick dog barf, his wild, uncontrollable tail, his growling song of delight when we come home and try to talk to each other. I. Am. Sick. Of. That. Dog.
All the same, I adopted the damn thing, and I can't handle the guilt of getting rid of his manky butt. Also, Burgundy might never forgive me. Mark already vaccuums all the carpets, so I'll give him the job of vaccuuming pretty much every day. I hate the way everyone else sweeps and mops, a neurotic obsession courtesy of My Beloved Mother. So I'll take sweeping and mopping.
Aside: I also hate the way everyone else folds clothes; therefore, I take on the job of folding all our laundry. This, too, can be tracked back to My Sainted Mum. Problem is, I blinking despise folding clothes. It's a timespan of just being stuck doing something that NOONE APPRECIATES and that my family will render completely useless the moment they decide to wear the shirt or use the towel. Laundry is the ultimate existential conundrum. Why? WHY I ASK YOU?
Anyway, I think that pretty much settles the housecleaning. Of course, that assumes that they all will do as I say.
I don't know if we'll get to the few outstanding things: finishing the paint job in the bathroom, hanging the towel rack in the bathroom, and hanging the new mirrored cabinet in the bathroom. Installing the rest of the baseboard trim around the house. Cleaning the back patio, planting the [ridiculous number of] fruit trees that DH bought. Moving one of the bookshelves into the library to open up the living room a little bit. Installing a ceiling mount for the projector to get it off the bookshelf. Ugh. Now I feel overwhelmed and useless again.