Today. Just, like, (seriously) twelve seconds ago I found out the date. So, happy fourth of July. Don't I feel a bit unpatriotic. Well. It makes me want to grill something and go swimming. But, no. Boppy/Daedalus/Papa Wicks decided that we don't have enough good, clean fun in our lives. And by 'good, clean fun' he meant the clean part. Yehs. Cleaning. Oh. So, yesterday started out like any other: stretching out and catching view of the time (just before 12 like every morning, waking up technically in the morning, thus making me feel like I didn't sleep in). But today was different: vrrrooooommmmm. What was that noise? Yes! The vacuum. In our house that's never a good sign, seeing as Daedalus usually makes ME do the vacuum work.
I was instantly worried and not relieved. To understand why you'll have to know something about Boppy. He gets on these weird, strange cleaning, sulking episodes every few weeks. Usually he makes me do the work, but during these occurrences he does the work. And not just things that need clean, but everything! Like, the strangest things. Closets, back porch, bathrooms (that are not his) and other spaces that are generally left untouched. Usually our work load consists of the kitchen, hallways and dining room. Because, Hey, clean it yourselves, you know? But yesterday I found him cleaning Eric/Matthew/Ashley/Brad/My bathroom. And the dinning room. And the laundry room. The back porch. The hallway. Ashley's own bathroom. AND MATTHEW'S ROOM!
Now you might be wondering what is so strange about my Daedalus cleaning. I mean, hey, clean is great, right? Right! But, to be honest, I would rather clean it all by myself than have Papa clean anything. Because when I clean it's because he's tired, sick or lazy. When Daedalus cleans, it's because he's on some totalitarian-rule high. I was trying to read a 500-page book yesterday, interrupted. Haha. When he cleans, he becomes a vacuum himself. Sucking all the freedom in the house. Because he just can't clean alone, oh no! He has to drag along everyone to do tiny jobs. Not so bad, right? Of course not. But when Daedalus gives you a small job, he has this habit of calling you back. And he just can't give me this bulk load all at once. I finish a job, ten minutes later: "CourtNEY!" and so on. And when you're reading a book, this gets tiring. It didn't help that I'd been grumpy all day from lack-of-sleep.
All-in-all, I didn't do much. Vacuumed part of the dinning room, vacuumed the hallway, swept/cleaned the bathroom. Yet somehow he stretched that list out. I couldn't do it all at once, it had to be every ten minutes doing something here or there because he couldn't just let me read or clean. Now, the part that really bothered me was Bud and Peanut. Bud, who is my brother (or so Daedalus calls him. Prince, he sometimes is called also) and Peanut who is my sister. Bud was home and Peanut wasn't. You know what Bud did? He played hours of uninterrupted video games! I mean, he helped Dad a bit when Daedalus STEAM CLEANED HIS ROOM FOR HIM, but really? There was no "MattHEW!" called across the house. I was only resentful (at first) of Peanut because I had to clean up her messes. Like I always do.
But the real candle on the cake was when she got home. Papa spent hours cleaning that bathroom that is so messy. There are new rules about bathroom hygiene in our house, and my mom forgot to brief Ashley as she headed for the shower. Like always, she left various items assorted on the floor of Dad's new bathroom and even had no idea we'd cleaned the house all day. Dad was so mad when found out, which, sadly, mollified me slightly. Then, as I went to pick up something for my Dad (his bad back couldn't reach it), I accidentally stepped on his toes. He didn't say anything, but he grumbled and mumbled and stormed off. Then Ashley walks by and Dad calls down the hallway in a sugary voice: "Sweetheart, are you going to stay for dinner?" I apologized TWICE about his toes (which was an accident, by the way) with no reply but silence. He never even mentioned the bathroom to Sweetheart.
Honestly, I think I lost it. Snapped. Eventually I let it go, partly because I was in such a mood. And because I once gave Becca some advice about grinning-and-bearing it, because, hey, they probably do appreciate you and if you didn't do it, they would have extra work. So, I did let it go and things got better. And I really do love my parents, their crazy moods and even their favoritism (it usually works in my favor).
But now we're starting Work Day 2. On a holiday. If I'm not back in September, call me a Fairy Godmother.
Toodle Pip.
