We are entertaining some family and friends at the house today, which necessitated some considerable housecleaning prior to the arrival of the guests. Lord knows Château Brooks was looking a bit cluttered prior to the purging of the domicile.
At any rate, we implored the leavers-of-chip-bags-behind-the-couch and throwers-of-dirty-socks to commence cleanup. Rarely have I seen such a collection of surly, unhelpful workers, although admittedly I have never served on a roadside work release crew.
One child claimed "terrible headaches," while another said "my stomach hurts." Oh, the humanity! With the issuance of each chore, the teens in my house began a campaign of wailing, teeth-gnashing, and garment-rending worthy of the outer darkness found by the sons of the kingdom.
And the quality of teen chores? Meh. Dirty clothes were heaved into closets and under kids bedding, while there exists a great disparity between the definitions of "clean" held by parents and teens.
It might be easier to banish the whole lot of incorrigible teens to a locked room and clean the house myself, as I spent a good portion of the morning cleaning up after the cleaners.
But then the guests arrive, good cheer and comraderie prevail, and the horrors of teen cleaning fade into distant memory.
Until the next gathering at Château Brooks...