Let's ignore the fact that this is my first blog in a month. The irony is that when nothing is going on in my life, I have time to blog, but nothing to blog about. And now that things have been crazy, there's lots to blog and no time to do it!
My first blog back is unfortunately a sad tale.
We have decided to move to the upstairs of the house that we have lived in the basement of for two years. (This is not the sad news)
I was raised with a "mom" standard of clean that I now uphold wherever I live. So I've spent the last four days scrubbing the house top to bottom before we move into it. (This is not the sad news either)
The windows were my first task, because the previous tenants had a child and apparently hadn't heard of Windex. After scrubbing them inside and out, I pulled up all the blinds and let the beautiful natural light pour in through all the perfectly clear windows.
So last night I started moving our kitchen stuff upstairs. I had been going up and down for hours and had only been inside the basement for a few minutes loading another box. When I walked back up the stairs, suddenly at the top step there was a little bird. It looked fake because it was in perfect condition, except for the fact that it was dead.
I looked around frantically, thinking about what a dead bird suddenly showing up on my doorstep could possibly mean. Was it just a cat leaving a meal for us? Was it a threat, ala The Godfather-horse's head in bed? There was no evidence of a struggle, no suspects lurking, no explanation for a little dead bird.
After pondering the situation and being a little paranoid, it came to me. The gigantic, crystal clean front window. Sure enough, stuck to the window in little patches--bird feathers. The poor little traveler couldn't see the window because it was so streak-free and beautiful.
I was so proud of those clean windows, and now I just feel like a killer.
But also kind of like a detective.
Hopefully this is the only casualty of having a clean home.