There are three other species that reside with me in my home. They are all boys. Otherwise known as "the fungus, that lives among us". Living with three boys makes me always in close proximity to hovering clouds of fart, snot in various forms (example: runny, flaky, gelatinous), and dirt. Lots and lots of dirt.
I am very well aware that girls are just as capable of being disgusting as boys can be, but for some reason, the male species can take "disgusting" to a whole other level.
One example of a girl capable of being completely repulsive, is my best friend Christal. Living in a small town, in good 'ol Wyoming, made entertainment for us young-uns hard up for anything remotely fun to do. So we used our imaginations! And no one was as imaginative as Christal. The girl would record her farts. Over and over again, she squeezed out a variety of musical farts that would range from a low 'g' to a high 'c' (I have no idea if those are real notes. I do not claim to know how to read music. At all.). For some reason, this was entertaining to us. She would fart, push rewind on her tape recorder, push play, and then we would laugh and laugh and laugh! Til we peed our pants (mainly I was the one doing the peeing.).
Daily I am reminded of the fact that my walls are dripping with testosterone. Most of it being yellow, smelling of urine, and in puddles around, behind, and on top of, EVERY ONE of our TOILETS.
Last Friday morning I experienced an "out-of-body" experience. And it was not a good experience. I made my way downstairs to participate in my weekly ritual of wiping, vacuuming, dusting, throwing away, and cussing under my breath. "Vile creatures! Who are these people!?!?! What kind of person is capable of such hideous-nous!"
When I turned the corner, into my family room, the sight literally took my breath away. No, really....
It. Took. My. Breath. Away.
Between the rank, stench of sweaty socks, and old junk food, all of my senses closed down. Eyes tearing up and gagging ensued.
Boys can be hard on your property. My walls look like they are textured. They are not intended to be that way. They are covered in dents, scratches, nicks, and holes, that they have produced. And it's not only my boys who transformed my walls to their current state. It's also their friends, who are also boys, that can at times, cause the abuse on my precious walls!
*you will have to excuse the poor quality of pictures below. I was in too much shock to make my way upstairs to get my camera.
The corner, below, was taken out by a 10 year old boy's knee. What the!?!?!?! My suggestion to his mother... reduce his Vitamin D intake.
I know it's difficult to figure out what furry creature this is. It is MY cute, primitive, sheep, that sits on a shelf, above our sectional. It's for decorative purposes only. It makes me happy. I think it is cute. But my youngest son likes to use it as target practice with a Nerf dart gun and apparently he thinks my decorative sheep needs to be sheared. Now I have to turn sheepy the opposite direction, to avoid seeing it's bald spots.
Now this image may just cause you to vomit a little, in your mouth. It is an image of the plastic mat, that lies beneath the computer chair. Homeboy managed to stuff toys, fruit snacks and papers under the mat. As I was lifting one of the corners of the mat, I noticed a yellow-ish liquid beginning to slosh to the other side. That's right. You guessed it. Homeboy has resorted to "marking his territory". Fungus, I tell ya!
Oreo cookies taste sooo much better, crushed into the carpet!
Here lies my primitive, Raggedy Ann, doll. She too sits on the shelf above the couch for decorative purposes also. She is special to me. She represents my long, lost, desire to be a mother to a sweet, stink-less, girl. (sigh) I purchased her when I was pregnant with Homeboy. This was, of course, before I knew I was going to have another boy. (sigh - again) Homeboy must sense, that for a second, I desired him to actually be a "she", while pregnant with him. He constantly knocks her off of the shelf.
"Why? Why son? Why such animosity against poor Raggedy?"
I know it's hard to tell, but there was a mysterious, orange, stain on the floor in between a couple of the seats of the sectional. After careful examination and scientific testing was performed (I scratched and sniffed it), it was determined that the disgusting, dried-on, stain, was that of SALSA. Yup, SALSA.
Are you kidding me!!!
This is a testament of just how brain damaged some teenagers are.
The stain on the floor, next to my flip flop (that Homeboy transported downstairs), is an old chocolate milk stain. And check out the empty Pepsi can next to the stain. How appropriate for it to be placed next to the stain! Cause you know... it's such a ridiculous concept to walk 4 feet to the nearest garbage can and dispose of it properly! (insert: sarcastic chuckle)
No words. You know who is responsible for this.
Oh wait! Now I know why the Pepsi can never made it to the garbage! And why, may I ask is my clock NOT hanging on the wall???? Hmmmmmm...
After much sweat and tears were shed, my family room was transformed back to it's happy, clean, self.
Usually I include some cleaning or organization tips to go along with my OCD tendencies posts, but today I decided to just share some advice.
Year after year I have been in the relentless pursuit of having my home be spic and span clean, ALL OF THE TIME. I've envied Martha Stewart's drawers, and perfectly, clean, crisp, laundry. Well, Martha can bite me. The woman pays multitudes of people to clean and organize.
I now realize that I will most likely never have a perfectly clean and organized home ALL OF THE TIME. And it's okay! Cause as long as I live with my three, crazy, boys, I'll somehow cherish the stains, the messes, and the dents in my walls!
Oh, and the crusty, putrid, popcorn stuck to the inside of the cup holders. Nice.
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