I feel like if I spend more than a few hours away from the house, I'll come home to a tornado. And I usually do both. It amazes me, really, that my dad can find his home 'livable'. When I got here, I was literally afraid to eat, so I just didn't eat anything at all from the house. I waited until Cameron got off work and I went and ate with him and his family. But if you saw the house, you'd understand. Everything is stained. Not just dirty (as in, can be cleaned), but literally there is NO cleaning it. It's stained.
Lately, my project has been the spare bathroom. I already tried to make the main bathroom acceptable, but there is no possible way to keep it clean, by my standards, because no one will help. It's just little things that they could do to maintain, but no one will. So everyday I'm cleaning and scrubbing the same things. Not just 'daily cleaning' either, but hard core, on your knees, scrubbing, sweating, disgusting, bugs crawling across your hands, cleaning. One day I took 5 hours and cleaned out the fridge, which I had believed was a light tan color. Actually, though, it was white. Well, it's still white, thanks to me. Cockroaches were in it. They had LAID EGGS on the ceiling of it.
In the bathroom, I'm peeling off the wallpaper because it's peeling up from the mold. I can't wait to start working and get the things I need paid off paid, so that I can fix the bathroom. I made my room excellent when I had money from Ohio left over. It doesn't even look like it belongs in the house, it's another world when you walk into my room. The spare bathroom will be that way, too. If I have a clean room and a clean bathroom, I'll be okay. The kitchen is too far gone to ever be okay by my standards, but I keep the dishes done and the counters cleared, which I'll just have to be happy with.
I spend my days cleaning and cleaning this house. The same cleaning ritual every single day, and every time I leave and come back, it's like I didn't clean anything at all.
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