Downscaling.net

My daughter moved out. Finally. She’s 24 years old and I swear to Dog I thought she’d never launch.

It was probably our fault. We feathered the nest so comfortably that she had no reason to leave it. But she met a nice guy and now she’s moved in with him and she took her anti-social cat with her and now Hoylier and I have the house to ourselves and we are doing the happy dance for her and for ourselves.

But the bedroom she left behind? It was not fit for human habitation.

My daughter is lazy. I love her very much, but she is the laziest human being on the face of the planet. When I was pregnant with her, my due date was March 17. When was she born? April 1. No fooling. She’s been poking along ever since.

She never cleaned her room. Ever. She did not dust. She did not sweep. She never washed her sheets. She only washed clothes when she had to and she never folded or hung anything. She just pulled it out of the laundry basket as needed. So it baffles me a bit that she took the two dressers in her bedroom with her when she left. They were practically new because she certainly never used them.

And then there was the litter box. It resided in her room so her anti-social cat wouldn’t have to run the risk of actually encountering another member of this household.

We were constantly nagging her to clean the litter box because you could smell it when you walked past her room. With the door closed. So not kidding. Wish I were.

So now that she and her cat have evacuated, my husband and I were left to detox the room and try to restore it to livable condition. It’s a nice sized room that would be great for guests, so we planned to spend this long holiday weekend cleaning it and buying a new dresser.

It took FOUR HOURS of scrubbing, dusting, carpet shampooing and deodorizing to get the air quality safe for breathing. On the hottest day of the year, no less. We were  drenched with sweat, even with the ceiling fan running, the air conditioning on and the windows open (I know, I know, all the air conditioning went right out the window, blah blah blah. The stench in that room was choking. We really wanted to break down the exterior wall to circulate air in there.)

We hauled out bags of trash and stuff to be donated, I laundered a basket full of dirty towels she left as well as all the bedding. The comforter could not be salvaged from cat hair and extreme funk.

This was some seriously hard work. I now feel qualified to clean crime scenes.

After the room was de-NASTY-fied, we went shopping for a new dresser. And we found one I love so much I want to move it to our room. And we bought a writing table, a chair, an upholstered bench, new lamps and a cotton blanket to replace the comforter for the summer.

We hauled all the furniture ourselves up the stairs, which is saying a lot because that dresser is heavy and we are the type of people to pay way too much money for delivery because it’s convenient and doesn’t risk my personal safety. Because who pulled a hamstring stepping off a curb? This girl. Who shredded all the cartilage in her right knee falling off a two-step stool? This girl.

So we saved money, sweated off a shitload of calories, redecorated the room and are proud of ourselves. And it’s an amazing feeling of accomplishment.

Happy dance!