The 1st Step…

We had to pull our oven out from in between our countertops because it wasn’t working right. Turns out, it’s an issue for the landlord. But, while it was pulled out I noticed all this gross ass grease dripping down the sides. So each time I walked passed it I would spray the sides with degreaser and vow to clean it on my next pass. This happened 6 or 7 times. Each time, me spraying more degreaser and vowing to wipe it down next time. Well, now it’s 10:30 at night and I’m heading to bed. I walk past the oven one final time to get myself some water from the sink and I realize enough is enough. I’m going to have to clean it. So I start scrubbing. Doug hears me and the following conversation ensues:

Doug: “Hez?”

Me: “Yes?”

Doug: “Are you cleaning the oven at 10:30 at night?”

Me: “Nooooooooo??”

Doug: (knowing that that kind of “no” means yes) “That’s quite meth-y behavior.”

Billie: (who absolutely should be asleep but somehow hears us from the bedroom) “Mommy’s on meth!”

Me: “Douglas. Do you hear what our child just said?”

Doug: “Don’t blame me. I didn’t give you the meth.”

Me: “I’m not on meth!”

Billie: “C’mon, lady! The first step is admitting you have a problem!”

Me: “Go to bed, Billie.”

Billie: “Fine. Goodnight, Crystal Mommy.”

🤦 This is what I get for cleaning.

The 1st Step…

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