Would still smell like a gerbil cage.
And why is that? It’s not like we have goddamn sawdust stored in our house. From my recollection of my brief history of owning gerbils, one of the overwhelming smells was sawdust.
Oh man, not to get off track here, but my experience with gerbils has been brutal and disturbing. Not in a Richard Gere way or anything.
Calm down, Richard Gere fans. I know that is a baseless rumor, but I am not one to back away from the easy joke.
The first time I had a gerbil, it was just a temporary thing. I took the classroom gerbil home for the weekend when I was in the 5th grade at St Augustine elementary. Her name was Daisy and I couldn’t wait to get my turn. Daisy finally came home with me for the weekend and then fucking died. Catholic school was scary. I had already gotten into huge trouble once for an incident involving some kid’s lunch and the Goodwill box. What would happen to me over possible rodent homicide? My mom solved the problem by buying a new gerbil.
The second time, my mother ill-advisedly allowed my sisters and I to get some gerbils. The gerbils ate their babies. They died off and then the last one alive got squished to death by a little girl named AnnaMarie who my mom was babysitting.
I am not a fan of gerbils. Then I went and had two sons, 11 years apart. I’ve had to live with the smell of a gerbil cage for about 20 years now.
I loathe cleaning our hall bathroom. It’s the main bathroom. The one for the general public. Randy and I have our own bathroom, so we rarely use the one in the hall. Joey’s bedroom is just across the hall from the bathroom and basically, it’s his bathroom.
The bathroom is disgusting. I only go in there when I know where having company. We’re having company for the next three weekends after this weekend. I have to clean the bathroom.
As a parent, the right thing to do would be to make Joey clean the bathroom. Getting him to clean the bathroom is so much not worth the effort it takes. We go in stages.
Me: Joey, you have got to clean this bathroom. It’s foul. And clean the whole thing. Everything.
Me: Don’t say okay and then not do it. I don’t want to ask you a hundred times.
Then I have to ask him 100 times.
Joey: I’m done cleaning the bathroom.
Me: You did the whole thing?
I go in the bathroom and the dirty towels and clothes have been picked up off the floor. That’s it. The toilet and the sink haven’t been cleaned, the tub hasn’t been cleaned. There are wads of tissue around the garbage can. There is a collection of hair along all the baseboards and a rusted empty can of shaving cream on the floor.
Me: Dude, you did nothing.
Joey: What? I got all the dirty clothes.
Me: I told you to clean the whole thing. You have to sweep the floor and clean the sink and toilet and stuff.
Me: Make sure you do a good job sweeping and I’ll mop it.
Joey: I can sweep mom. It’s not like I don’t sweep at my job. I am a professional sweeper.
Five minutes pass.
Joey: I’m done.
Me: With everything?
Me: In five minutes?
I go into the bathroom and the ring in the toilet has slightly lightened up and there is still hair on the baseboard. And the rusted empty can of shaving cream is still on the floor.
So, you see why it’s just easier to clean the damn bathroom?
I am at home because I am sick today. I probably have a sinus infection. Joey just got over one and it never fails that if he is sick, then I am sick. It’s Friday and I’m really bummed that my weekend is probably toast and happy that I’m getting an unexpected 3 day weekend. Even if I do feel like shit.
It occurred to me that as long as my ability to smell was compromised, it would be the perfect time to shovel out the boy’s bathroom.
On the other hand, as a responsible parent, I should make my kid clean up after himself. I think I will do that. Besides, In my weakened state, the most I want to do is start watching Supernatural from season one (for the 4th time) and read blog posts. Maybe see how many cups of hot tea I can get Randy to bring me before he starts getting pissy about it. Wanna take bets on that? I’ll help you out, it’s probably more than a dozen times. Randy is very sweet when I’m sick and takes good care of me.
Yet I still desire to torment him. That’s true love right there.
I hope you all have a great weekend. I’ll be spending mine blowing my nose and bitching at my kid during every stage of the gerbil cage clean up.
Thanks to Marcia over at Menopausal Mother for the inspiration today!