Cinderella's Apprentice

I spent yesterday cleaning the carpets and upholstery in our house.  I still haven't managed to get rid of the Great Butter Stain of Christmas 2007. DH accidently dripped a line of melted butter 4 feet long onto the carpet while helping bring food to the table. Kind wife that I am, I never mention it to DH, except for every time I vacuum...or we're having company come over, or it's a month with 31 days.

I clean it...it comes back. I scrub it...it comes back. I unleash onto it a payload from my chemical arsenals....it comes back. I twirl in circles while chanting Native American spells and burning incense, or is that my cooking?....it comes back.

I feel like I'm Lady MacBeth, shouting,"Out, damned spot!"

or

like I am trying to rid myself of Georgiana's birthmark.

See how useful my English degree turned out to be? I can think of obscure parallels about my housecleaning. I'm so glad I spent thousands upon thousands of dollars becoming edumacated.

It really takes the sting out o' my drudgery.

Jury Duty

The Circuit Court of my county has a thing for me. They keep inviting me to Jury Duty. I think they have a complex. I have turned them down at least three times by now. This stalkerish behavior should really be reported. I was thinking of getting a restraining order against the Clerk of the Circuit Court, asking him to please stop hounding me. I do not want to sip coffee, in Styrofoam cups, with little red stirrers, in a dark paneled room, with fluorescent lighting, with you. I am married. Not Available. Not Interested. No matter how sexy your plastic nameplate is, I have no desire to see you. Please, stop calling me.

Ahhh....but then I was confounded by cleaning my house. I stacked together miscellaneous papers in a neat little pile on the counter--papers that needed to be filed away, papers that needed to be hung on the refrigerator, and most importantly--papers that needed to be returned with an X in a tiny, little box stating that I have a child under age six, for whom I am the primary caregiver, so please let me go so that I can supervise my child and make sure he doesn't light himself on fire or stab his eyes with scissors while making an art project. Yes, that important paper sunk to the bottom of the paper pile, hiding inconspicuously amongst the insurance paperwork, primitive drawings and pizza coupons....silent and still...until it shouted into my brain yesterday,"JURY DUTY!!! YOU FORGOT TO MAIL ME IN!....NANA...NANA...BOO BOO! IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU YOU!"

And so, Mr. Clerk of the Circuit Court, you will finally be able to bring me to your lair and force me to be part of your dastardly schemes. I have been undone by hasty housecleaning.

You'd better have cream and sugar for my coffee!