The Clean Out


Today is the day my husband dreads.  He is on a plane and knows my evil plan is already in motion.  It begins with coffee.  Dark.  Very strong.  Then come the trash bags, the lighting of the wood stove and the shredder.  This occurance of the “clean out” comes about three times a year, when he travels and the moon is right, because I can NEVER do it while he is here.

It is his office cleaning.  The desk from hell.  The closet from Hades.  He is a die hard, admitted pack rat to the max.  He refuses to throw away anything and collects everything.  Let me tell you what I found this morning, just on his desk alone. 

*Bendaroos (in shapes that nobody would recognize, but that he knows)

*Seven assorted paint brushes

*Two tooth brushes

*One C9 Christmas lightbulb

*Four staplers (I didn’t even know he had that many)

*One roll of green garden tape (uhh…)

*One Cd – Kizz Crazy Nights

*The movie Bruno

*Three empty coffee cups

*Six expired toners from the color copy machine

*Two flashlights

Now I could go on for a very long time, but I really have to begin my covert operation.  You see, I wait until he is securely in the air and I begin to clean, clear and remove.  I file.  I destroy.  I conquer.  It takes about two hours, but in the end his office looks like it did when the desk was brought in the very first day.  The funny part is that he never realizes what is gone.  That is because the items were not important, merely dropped and forgotten I suppose. 

The reason why I can only do this about three times a year?  It has to be the perfect timing.  Not only does he have to actually go out of town, but he has to remain out of town until a garbage day passes.  Why?  If not, he will surely hunt through the trash to find a piece or 50 of what he doesn’t need, but thinks he does and put it back into the office I just cleaned.  The combination of clean, and exit the property takes skill.  It’s almost like planning a lunar eclipse. 

Im wondering if I can toss the 5 foot giant dice that he has put atop the filing cabinets.  He might miss those and never travel again.  Hmmm….

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About wigsbabe

Never be the Mediator... be the writer.
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