I was hanging with some college friends last weekend, several of whom are from the deep south. (Is deep south supposed to be capitalized?)
We laughed about the phrase, “Bless their hearts” . . . which really means, “Wow, I feel so sorry for them, they’ve got real problems.”
Here in Texas we say, “Poor thang . . . ”
I think either phrase could be said about my sweet children this week. Why? Here’s their bathroom counter:
On Monday, I played the part of the crazy-woman who is frantically trying to get something done in her home. I did laundry and cleaned their bathroom before a friend came over to video me cutting up and bagging my 40 lbs of Zaycon chicken. What . . . . you don’t have someone film your kitchen tasks? Hmmm.
Anyway, I tried to do a thorough cleaning job in their bathroom which meant that I even vacuumed in the corners using my handy-dandy handheld vacuum cleaner.
That was Monday, and today is Wednesday.
For two full days, they have used their bathroom without ever asking why in the world their counter was completely covered in cords. And yes, they have washed their hands. We’ve had the multi-times-daily conversation that goes like this:
Me: Did you wash your hands?
Them: Yes.
Me: With soap?
Them: Oh.
They never once noticed the totally-obvious-covers-the-entire-counter vacuum. Or if they did notice, they didn’t think much of it.
Bless their hearts.
The detail? I took it off the counter and put it away. Like . . . where it goes and everything.
This post caught my eye in my blog reader because my husband and I, who are Northerners heard this a lot when we lived in KY. As soon as we learned what it really meant, it was hard to keep a straight face when someone said that to us-especially when it was said with a patronizing voice:)
Nony,
I wanted to share with you what happened to me today. I hope it doesn’t appear that I’m a blog hog, and if you’d like to delete this comment after you read it, my feelings won’t be hurt.
I am a slob, through and through. Almost everything you write on your blog could have been written by me. Today I faced the Slob’s Nightmare…
My son is a Boy Scout, and he and my husband love to camp, hike, canoe, etc. His Scout troop is going canoeing this weekend, and I realized that the only life vest we have that fits him (he’s very small for 11) is his sister’s purple one. I put out a plea on Facebook for one to borrow, and a friend reminded me that her husband works for a camping gear manufacturer. She suggested I contact him, and I might score a free one. I do know her husband fairly well, and he knows my son well. So I sent him the message, and said that in addition my son would be interested in getting his input and recommendations on gear, since he will be using a lot of it in the next few years. He asked me a few questions, and then messaged, “Can I drop by at about 8:15 with some surprises for him?”
YIKES!! A drop by!! But obviously I couldn’t say no. (as an aside, I know their home is neat and tidy). I told the kids, “We have to get these two rooms (the ones you can see from the back door, which is the door we use because it’s closest to the driveway) looking good before bed. We are having company in the morning.” Well, we worked on it for about 5 minutes before my son said something about the time, which made me realize that it was only 7:45, not 8:45 like I thought, and that the friend was coming in 30 minutes!! You can imagine the mayhem that ensued. We cleaned, we swept, we put away, and it was looking pretty “normal” by the time his car pulled in the driveway. I waited for the knock on the back door. And waited. And heard, to my horror, a knock on the FRONT DOOR! Not being familiar with our house, he had walked through the side yard to the front door. I’m ashamed to say that the visit, including the gifting of over $100 worth of camping gear, took place in the front yard. I did walk toward the side yard and invite him to come in (through the back door), but he needed to leave and pick up a kid. Oh well, maybe the fact that I got two rooms to the “normal person” state in 45 minutes is something.
This is totally my life! No matter which room I think can be avoided, guests find it!
You mean things … have … places? *ROFL* My favorite (slathered in sarcasm) is when my kids unwrap something like a piece of gum, then drop the wrapper on the floor…I’m like…WTH?!?!?!
Laughing hysterically because this could be my house! My poor husband is a neat freak! I think (I am am very sure) that I drive him completely nuts! I am working on it