The Cleaning Plan

We slept in today. Boyfriend has this thing where biorythms don't exist during weekends and he stays up until six am, takes out the dog, and goes to bed.

Somewhere between twelve and two we got up. I'm fuzzy about the details. Sis called, then we made sure we had to put condoms on the grocery list... Anyway, it was definitely afternoon by the time we got out of bed. Apart from lovey-dovey shenanigans, we'd come up with a game plan.

Boyfriend would take Iggy outside, then to his parents, while I cleaned most of the apartment. First he took the trash with him and sorted away some big things that needed tidying up, then he removed the dog from my brilliant cleaning equation.

I put up everything that could be put up, vacuumed, figured out how to use the cleaning system bucket Boyfriend has (once you know how it works, it's ridiculously practical and easy) and mopped all suspicious stains off the floor. All-in-all, it was about an hour's hard work. Even the bedroom is clean, and I very much doubt my parents will get in there.

I went downstairs to wait for it all to dry and chat with the in-laws, everything very pleasant apart from the fact that I was still wearing a bandana around my head to keep my hair out of my eyes and away from my neck. I looked silly, but the house was clean.

When we got back, Iggy was confused. His toys had disappeared. His blanket had disappeared. His basket has disappeared. Even his water bowl and food bowl were nowhere to be found in this clean, sparkly room.

While he was being confused, I was preparing the shower for some epic dog washing. Then I came out and tried to catch him. Yeah, I ended up chasing him around a chair, getting him into the middle of the living room and having him pee from fright there. Our dog is very much aware that I am unapologetic about getting his through necessary but unpleasant things.

Boyfriend cleaned up the mess while I put Iggy in the shower and washed him. All went well, until our freakish heating system decided hot water was a myth for two to three minutes. Iggy had gotten a small blast of icy coldness, and did not like the sitting around in the tub part of waiting for the water to come back so I could un-soapify him. He tried to climb out. He got panicky when I had no effort in pushing him back into the tub. He did not like being at a disadvantage with me. Then the hot water came back on and I rinsed him out, washing his little face last.

At that point, Iggy was so done with this 'shower' gig. He was getting out. So when I moved to the towel to shake it open and dry him, Iggy made his grand escape, leaving a drippy, watery trail over the apartment and then shaking himself when he was suitably far away. Boyfriend, hero that he is, mopped up the water while I caught the demonic wet rat adorable little fuzzball and dried him off. Iggy did not like the drying off part, but since it appeared I wasn't going to drag him back to the soapy world full of water jets that randomly freeze you, he gave up and let me. Also, it appeared he was sitting on a nest made out of that big, yellow towel he'd tried to pull off the drying rack yesterday. Small victory at last!

We gave him a slice of ham (I felt guilty) and I cleaned up my mess in the bathroom. I threw all the dog washing implements in the washer with the mop's microfibre cloth and let Boyfriend clean the bathroom while I went shopping.

Now the house is clean, the things in our house that needed cleaning are clean, the dog is clean and we only have a little laundry to do. Also, we're going out for dinner later. And I'm making soup afterwards. Let's see if you can overcook cauliflower.