I'm not a great housekeeper.
Now, if you walk into my house and casually glance around, you might THINK I am. My house usually looks tidy. Everything looks neat. There is nothing upon first glance that would make you think I'm anything other than little Suzy Homemaker.
But then if you start to look - I mean REALLY look - you'll see that when the light shines in a certain way, the floors really need to be mopped. And there may be just a FINE layer of dust on... well, everything. And since I'm short... so, so short, anything that's taller than my 5'1" line of sight is quite literally out of sight, out of mind.
And this makes Zachary's bunk bed quite a challenge, in more ways than one.
It's a challenge to change the sheets because I can't really reach them, and it's a challenge to care because I can't really see it.
You see my dilemma, don't you?
So recently I walked into Zachary's room for something or another, and I realized it smelled a little musty? Kinda like dirty feet and cheese? A little research led me to the bed, and I decided it might be time to change his sheets and wash his blankets
I climbed my fat ass up the ladder to strip the bed, and I was met with a most amazing sight.
His entire bed was full.
Absolutely, positively full of... stuff.
It was kind of a sight to behold, and truth be known, if it weren't for the funky smell, I would have been pretty impressed, because he had created a whole little world up there, away from my prying eyes.
As I started taking things down, I counted six books, countless comic books, a whole selection of action figures, FOUR complete pairs of pajamas and one extra pajama bottom, three socks, two empty water bottles, several straws, some candy wrappers (which, by the way, he knows is forbidden in the bedroom), a remote control that had been missing for quite some time, a couple pencils and several pages of schoolwork, at least 63 out of a 64 box of crayons, every blanket he owns, and various other assorted toys and totally unidentifiable pieces of plastic and paper.
I'm surprised there was any room for him, really.
I asked him about it later that day after he got home from school. "Hey Zachary," I said, "I cleaned off your bed today. What was all that stuff doing up there, anyway?"
He shrugged and looked totally unconcerned. "Ah, it was all stuff I needed" he replied.
Uh oh. The packrat gene is strong with this one.
After a stern talking-to to Zachary, I made a silent vow to myself to climb ALL THE WAY up the ladder to check his bed more often.
Well, at least once a month or so, anyway.