"In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and...snap! The job's a game!"
If poor Mary Poppins could see my fiance's bachelor pad, she would sing a VERY different song, I'm afraid. We (more specifically, I) decided that it was time to start cleaning up his place to prepare for the big move in February. I had not stepped foot into his room in months, and had a vague notion as to what I should expect. Before we even walked in the front door, I had to lay down the ground rules:
1.) I am a Weidmann. (Translation: We are ruthless Germans who would throw away our first born children if they didn't serve a practical purpose.)
2.) He is a Jew. (Translation: He keeps EVERYTHING [including semi-used napkins] in thinking that he will somehow use it in his lifetime.)
3.) We must compromise. (Translation: I have the final say.)
When I saw the destruction that lay before me, I knew there would be a whole lot of rule #3 going on. After just an hour and a half, we produced 4 large garbage bags filled to the brim with junk, found an unused $50 gift card, discovered two unopened birthday cards, compiled 5 full bottles of Windex, and unearthed a duffel bag filled with 10 bottles of ProActive solution with the seal intact. I also found countless dishes, a brand new oil filter, one unpaid bill, 3 pocket knives, Newsies, two iPod adapters (but no iPod), and an empty bottle of oven cleaner. Needless to say, it was quite the adventure -- and we still have three quarters of the room left!
What I wouldn't give for a magical nanny...