SotR, Cleaning Spree edition

Back when I was sick a few months ago, my standards of housekeeping started to resemble those of a nest of diseased gerbils whose cage was severely neglected.

Now, I am not all about housework. Nobody this side of severe OCD is, or should be. However, I used to have a bad lazy streak coupled to terrible indifference to my general surroundings. Until things get really really really bad (as in "piles of trash and more bugs than Juan Rico has ever had to deal with . . ."), I don't do anything about them, ignore them, and hope the trash walks itself into bags (roaches the size of Yugos are an occasional help) and the dishes are magically cleaned.

That changed when I moved into my new place. I wanted to make a break from my history of "trash the place and hope my friends help dig me out." I want a place where I can entertain, game, make dinner for people I care about.

I want a cozy home, not a lair. Should I meet someone someday who I'd like to impress with my 1337 d0mestik skillz (as opposed to my gheek cred), I'd like that someone to say "That RichO guy isn't a sloven and has 1337 d0m3stik skillz!"

All was well for about a month after my move, then I got sick and stayed that way for the better part of the first four months of 2007. I saw the abyss and my slide toward household hell . . . and being ill, I did not feel like doing jack squat about it. I went from pretending to 1337 to total n00bness.

What happened? I started getting well, thanks to losing all that weight and some very good wound care by some of the very best nurses anywhere --- Teri, Guadalupe, Zoe, Ellen, and Florence. And just in time, my complex announced its semi annual walkthrough to inspect smoke alarms and the plumbing.

At that point, I got busy and started undoing several months of poor housekeeping -- and was informed on inspection day that I needed to do better or I'd be evicted. Round two was nearly four hours of frantic sweating work with some newly purchased tools and supples -- and the place passed. The apartment manager said I really turned the place around. A month ago, I could not have done it without yelling for help, and I'm tired of imposing on my friends like that.

I like the way the place looks now. I'm overdue for a small housewarming party, or a soiree where I make dinner for someone important to me . . .