This evening, after dinner, I leapt up from the table and dashed upstairs to help Brandt clean his bedroom. I had to dash upstairs because earlier, he would not let me in his room. I have, for many months, tolerated the state of his bedroom, but today I reached my limit and insisted he clean. I also insisted he let me help because I knew he would not be able to actually finish if he did it alone. He was very resistant to my assistance, but by dashing upstairs, I made it into the room before he could stop me.
He whined and complained, but I was deaf to his complaints. His room was disgusting. The dust on every surface was thick, he had garbage all over his floor, the bedding all needed a wash, and the whole room needed to aired and vacuumed. In addition, I opened all his drawers and we sorted everything from clothes to books, mementos to junk. We cleared out a huge pile of clothing and a large garbage bag of stuff he no longer wanted or needed. Then we dusted and vacuumed and changed all the bedding.
Everything looked terrific when we were through. Sadly, we did not have time to get into the closet and sort all the things in there, but clothes were hung up and the floor was clean enough to vacuum, so I can't really complain too loudly. His complaining even lessened the further along we got.
As Brandt and I were finishing cleaning his room, he found this wig that had been at school but somehow found its way to our house. With his shades, the wig, and the American Flag in the background, he looks like a total redneck.
The other two pictures are of us as we were sorting through small drawers in his dresser and going through all the stuff that had accumulated over the years that he didn't want anymore, like these sunglasses.
I can only say, I hope the clean lasts for more than two days.
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