Okay ~ I'm not so sure this blogging thing is for me. Some people just come naturally by it, some don't. I would qualify as an honorary member of the "don't" catagory. My daughter blogs, and blogs were created for people like her. This kid is a hoot. Today she compared herself to Cinderella. She's 14 and has no interest in the prince aspect of the story at this time (she is still focused on horses ~ her Daddy says she needs to keep that focus until she's 30), but she feels like a maid. Chores, chores, chores! Is there no end to the drudgery of chores? Poor kid. Not.
Yes, this morning was filled with chores. The dreaded project? The bunkhouse. However, it really only needs a good cleaning about twice a year. We live on a ranch and the bunkhouse is like a hotel on a ranch ~ without room service. Most often it is used when we plan our spring branding and fall shipping works. The cowboy crew that we hire to help work the cattle take up residence in the bunk house then. This weekend it will be filled with antelope hunters. Ten hunters. Six beds. Guess they'll have to flip for a bed.
After 6 days of labor, the new floors were finally installed yesterday. They were cutting it close, but the nasty, disgusting carpet (I'll never know what possessed someone to put carpet in a kitchen and dining room in a bunkhouse!) and 3 layers of old vinyl and linoleum were finally banished and are now taking up residence in the dump. Guess it just wasn't what the poor kid who came out to do the job, was expecting. He mentioned the fact that he would probably quit after he finished. I stayed out of their hair. Just took them Gatorade and cookies. Maybe he didn't like peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.
It was actually a joy to clean today (my darling Cinderella begs to differ), but this time when we cleaned, it was actually clean. The poor mistreated child had to make up the 6 beds (which her wonderful mother stripped) with the fresh linen (which her dear sweet mother washed). Then she had to run the horrible vaccuum over that brand new carpet and sweep the sparkling new floors. All the while her mother spent 2 hours paying homage to the tub and toilet while she scrubbed away 50 years of rusty buildup with her new best friend, CLR (a Calcium/Lime/Rust remover). I'm telling you, this child is so mistreated.
Let me go back in time for a moment. Not so long ago, I seem to recall another scenario. Same daughter ~ then 6. Same mother ~ let's just say she was younger then. Different bathroom, but a toilet was present and the mother was once again kneeling in front of it (sigh). The dear daughter was humming and wiping down the counters when the mother was quite suddenly attacked from behind. Her daughter had flung herself exuberantly onto the back of her mother and wrapped her little arms tightly around her exclaiming, "Oh, Mommy! This is the MOST fun I've EVER had!" Honest. True story. Poor kid.
Yes dear, you actually ENJOYED cleaning at one time. Alas, I was unable to capture that moment and bottle it for future use.
Just think, whenever that prince does arrive (sometime after that magical age of 30) she will have all the skills necessary to make a house a home. What a horrible thing to do to a child!
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