While I was away at Blissdom, my very kind in-laws came to watch the kids while Tate was at work. I think that I’ve admitted to being a fairly lax housekeeper, right? Well, just in case I haven’t mentioned it: I’m a fairly lax housekeeper.
Before leaving for Nashville, I tried to get the house in order for my in-laws arrival. The toilets were clean(ish) and the guest bedroom sheets were freshly laundered. I even mostly cleaned the kitchen, with one exception.
I did not clean the microwave. I did not clean the microwave because I’m on a microwave cleaning strike and have been on strike for about three months. And I’m on a microwave cleaning strike because SOMEONE in my house refuses to cover their food with a paper towel, thus making a big mess every time they reheat food. That same SOMEONE then never cleans up after him (or her) (but not really her) self and apparently doesn’t care about the glop and gloop inside the microwave.
Well this someone RIGHT HERE (that’s me, okay?) I do care about the glop and gloop in the microwave, but I’m so tired of cleaning up after SOMEONE else’s messes. I am not a maid!
We’ve been at a bit of standoff, one that I was SO going to win. Which is why, when I left, the microwave was not exactly clean.
Of course, I failed to mention my microwave cleaning strike to my mother-in-law because, really? It’s pretty childish. I admit it, OKAY?! But childish as it may be, it made me feel like, “HA! See that dirty microwave, SOMEONE in my house? YEAH! Well, you’re just going to have to live with it!!”
When I came home, I discovered that the microwave had been cleaned. By my mother-in-law.
Sure, I’m happy to have a clean microwave, but man. All those months of work for nothing.