A Calm Storm

The blog of Sholeh Samadani Munion

Cleaning machine

There are certain things that are meant to be done during daylight, or at least at a time when you aren’t asleep on your feet. Cleaning bathrooms, for example. First, I am not a person that likes to clean bathrooms (although there are people out there who enjoy this activity. Seriously! I met one!). Second, when I get tired, I forget things. Third, I always try to multi-task.

I was feeling very efficient after my dinner party tonight…washed all the dishes, bagged up the trash, put away the food, put away clothes in my room. I put toilet cleaner fluid in the toilet and let it sit, and did the same with the bathtub scrub.

This was at around 10 pm. Then I got distracted watching youtube clips at my next door neighbor’s flat, stopping by my aunt’s flat, etc. The usual fun times at the Blum. 😛

At midnight I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and realize that I haven’t scrubbed out the cleaning stuff. So it is happily eating away at the tub and toilet. I promptly scrub them both out, taking away several layers of minerals (yay for calcium deposits in the water supply!). Trust me, I would have completely forgotten to clean it out if the smell hadn’t overpowered me.

Now it is 12:30 am. I think I drank too much tea. I am wide awake.

I just realized that I wrote an entire blog post about cleaning my bathroom. And it had no point except to illustrate that I am occasionally absent-minded and a little bit obsessive. Wow. I’m so sorry to have wasted your time! 😀 But hey, the everyday things give you a little glimpse into my life, right?

Do any of y’all have a story about forgetting things, bathrooms (I know I’m asking for trouble with this one!), or even a random anecdote that you always wanted to share, but never had the opportunity? Now is your chance!


4 thoughts on “Cleaning machine

  1. I tend to get distracted when cleaning as well and I usually can’t blame it on tiredness but my biggest crime of forgetting probably is when I make myself dinner late at night. 4 out 5 days a week my schedule gets me home around 10 pm…and as I’ve not eaten since noon I generally make a light dinner rather than go to bed grumbly in stomache and soul. In my fury to be fast, I do not put everything away when I am done with it-I think, ‘Of course I will come right back to this and put it away as soon as I’ve eaten, of course!’ But after my meal is eaten I get caught up in the late night non-cable comedy shows…Everybody Loves Raymond, Scrubs, WIll&Grace, Friends etc. My eyes begin to droop. I stumble to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I crawl in to bed, barely remembering to set the alarm. Then, seconds later, the alarm goes off except it is 630am. I snooze for a bit. I start the morning rush routine. I head to the kitchen to feed the cat. I see my (fill-in-the-blank) on the counter. I debate whether 7 hours on the counter instead of in the fridge has ruined it and depending on my mood and the item, it revisits the fridge or is introduced to the trash. I hate throwing away what was perfectly good food, I tell you what. Then usually I get cranky and wonder why my schedule always gets me home so late and I long for the days when I came right home after work and ate at a normal time of 6 or 7 pm. Then I wonder why my cat doesn’t know how to cook. Then I leave for work again and think to myself, ‘Oh well, it won’t happen again! It won’t!’

  2. Reza: haha nice.

    Leslie: If your cat knew how to cook, you could make a LOT of money. 😀

  3. Oh, goodness. I forget EVERYTHING. It’s awful.
    My mother always said I needed to glue things to my body, or use velcro, or have chips implanted or something.
    Example? Last week, Sina and I went to the gym. We joined recently, and are trying to motivate each other. I ran on the treadmill, got off to stretch and use the restroom, and then mid-stretch realize that I left my keys in the little cupholder-thingy on the treadmill. Fortunately, they are still happily sitting there.
    Half an hour later, after another treadmill (the other stuff scares me), we leave. We drive back to drop me home. It’s quite late. We need to work in the morning. We’re exhausted. I’m half-asleep in the car.
    Then I get out, to go inside; fumble around— um, where are my keys?
    In the treadmill cupholder again, of course.
    Thankfully they were, again, still there.

    Two days after this I lost my wallet on a bus. Found it later, sans-cash, but still.

    As for taking care of other stuff? My cellphones have thus far suffered death-by-canal, death-by-ice-cream, and the more typical, death-by-kitchen-floor.

    If there were a Social Services for small accessories, mine would all be in foster care by now. Permanently.

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