He brought me to tears

Inevitably, one of my days off on the weekend is a cleaning day.  In a perfect world, this would entail a light dusting, maybe a quick vaccuum, or tackling something that is rarely cleaned (like the storage room!).  Since G is home full time now, you might expect this to be the case.

Yeah, it's so not.

Not that I blame him (well, not entirely).  He does look after 2 kids, plus my dog.  They are constant whirlwinds of destruction, wreaking havoc and destroying the best laid plans.  I try to give G a goal for the week, and he tries to get that one thing done.  Most times he succeeds.  Those are good days.  It is a little sad how little it takes to make he happy.   Vaccuum tracks in the carpet, closet doors that close. (As I type this, Sebastian just dropped a half full bag of kettle corn on my carpet and is currently standing on it *sigh*.)

Anyway, with all the hectic activity from last weekend (we were showing at Fan Expo- I will blog about that another time) this week- not much got done.  I asked G to please help me clean on Saturday, just so I didn't spend the weekend miserable and moping, dragging ass around the house, and muttering to myself about living in a shithole. (Yes, I do all this and more.)

I tackled the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom, and G had the kitchen and living room.  He asked me to not get crazy, and to just focus on the most "bang for my buck".  I tend to get distracted in weird jobs, that absolutely have to get done, but suck up my time.  Cleaning the house is often a 3 day adventure with me.  Anyway- I agreed, but said that I really wanted the mystery gunk in the bottom of the fridge cleaned out.  I don't know if something spilled, or rotted, or just climbed in there to die- it now had stuff stuck in it, and it needed to be gone.  He agreed that cleaning the gunk was within reasonable expectations.

I cleaned and cleaned, and drank some beers, and cleaned some more.  Sawyer drank some beer (she got ahold of mine and took a healthy swig- and then chased me, crying for more.  G just shook his head at this) and made a mess behind me.  About half way through the day, Geoff called me downstairs to check his progress.  Things looked good (he didn't sweep or mop, but you can't win 'em all) and then he opened the fridge....

He cleaned it.
Top to bottom.
Clean.

I literally cried, there in my kitchen.  I am not the most affectionate person in the world, but I grabbed him and hugged him and cried.  I hadn't been that happy in a long time.  He told me later that it was one of the proudest moments of his life- seeing my reaction and how happy I was. 

Here's to a new start, a clean fridge and a husband that might just get it...even just a little bit.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "neat and non-gunk-ified."