Making a clean sweep

I'm relishing the fact that I've got a few days off after my run of nights. And you know what makes it sweeter? The fact that I'm relishing it in an apartment that is minus about 6 trashbags (maybe more) of crap.

Rewind to Saturday.

Actually, rewind a bit further, to Thursday immediately after my 1st night of a 4 night streak. I was tired, and as I crept along 360 in the AM traffic I realized that I couldn't make it. No, sir. Not going to drive back to Dallas in the middle of this God-forsaken traffic. So I altered my route to the haven in Arlington known as "Mom and Dad's House". My mom and dad, oddly enough, live there.

So I pulled into the driveway, walked in, and announced my arrival as I always do. By screaming "Hola Mami! Hola Papi!" and slamming the door. If I don't, Mom freaks out that someone is breaking into the house when the alarm beeps. Thankfully they were up, and didn't mind the unannounced visit. I then let them know that I was about to pass out, at which my mom produced some pjs, gave me a towel, pulled out my toothbrush, and made me some breakfast while I took a shower. After that, I crawled into bed and passed out for a good 5-6 hours, when I woke up to a solid meal and hung out with my mom.

I'm a pampered kid. Mom washed my scrubs and white coat while I was asleep. One of the topics we wandered to was the state of my apartment. I am, unfortunately, a slob. I can pick up after myself when I'm a visitor, but in my own abode I let things accumulate to the point of dismay. At that time, we formulated a plan to help me tidy up in the near future. I love my mom.

So Saturday I drove myself back to Dallas, slept, and woke up at 2 PM to let my parents in, and we set to work. We emptied out bags of mail that have been in my apartment since 2005. We shredded patient lists that I had been hoarding for about the same amount of time. Ditto for old medical journals and magazines. The mountain of shoe boxes that I had in my closet has disappeared. The difference made after about of 4 hours of nonstop trash hauling is astonishing.

But the embarassing thing? It's still a mess. I need to finish up with all the clothes that are scattered on my bed, and I need to organize my books. I shudder to think what might be under my bed and dresser while I'm typing this. But I'm pleased, and with any luck it will be a task that will be completed tomorrow. I feel like a human being again, and less like a wild beast in it's den.