Someone is playing a practical joke on me.
Like a ninja in the dead of night, sneaking in and hiding old things for me to find in the ‘way-back’ of cabinets and closets. I expect at any moment people will jump out and yell “Smile! You’re on Candid Camera!”
At which point I will punch them all in the nose and fill the air with adult language.
The house went on the market yesterday, and I’m still cleaning out seventeen years of stuff.
Sunday night, after another full day of going through closets, cabinets, and boxes, just as I was drifting off to sleep I remembered I hadn’t cleaned out the half bath vanity cabinet.
It was the first thing I tackled Monday morning.
I emptied out the cleaning supplies, extra soap, towels and toilet paper and got ready to wipe out the interior when I saw it. All the way in the back there was something smooshed up against the wall. Because I have freakishly short arms -picture a dinosaur-, I had to crawl halfway into the cabinet to get it.
It was a dried up package of toddler wipes.
The toddler is almost thirteen.
As an aside, I’m not sure why I bought special “toddler” wipes instead of the regular baby wipes. They must differ in some way, but it’s been so long I can’t remember how or why I thought my grandson needed a package marked “toddler” when he couldn’t read and wouldn’t have known the difference.
Anyway, I am now so embarrassed at the things I’m finding as I clean I’ve decided to wear a disguise so nobody will know it’s me when I end up on TV.
If this doesn’t turn out to be some sick practical joke, I’m going to need therapy. Finding out I’m not as tidy as I thought is going to be hard to work through.
So, if you happen by the therapists waiting room, I’ll be the one wearing the above disguise and straightening the magazines.
Just don’t yell “Smile! Candid Camera!” unless you want us both to end up in jail….