Brain dump ahead.
I really hate cleaning my apartment. My apartment is all of 475 square feet, and it doesn’t take very long to clean at all (half-hour?). But I hate doing it.
But the time has come where I feel like I must be regular about this whole cleaning thing. For myself, and for Playbill. I am insanely paranoid that she’s going to get worms again, or something worse, because I’m not a diligent enough cleaning lady. I changed that today.
Yesterday, after J and I had dinner and he left to watch the final NBA game, I hunkered down and spent some time cleaning my apartment. I swept, I Swiffered, I used 100 little antibacterial wipes. I dusted every shelf and surface. My TV. Under things. The bathroom. The stovetop. Cleaned the kitchen counter tops. Desktops. Dresser tops.
I cleaned it all and I hope it’s good enough. I’m going to start putting reminders on my calendar to clean once a weekend. Wish me luck.