I had a week — more or less — off, so I decided to go in. I went in stocking feet so as not to startle anybody or anything that might be living in there, but that made the terrain all the more dangerous. The dog knew what was coming, and quietly skulked away. Would I find the missing iPod?
Armed with a box of plastic garbage bags I went for the dirty laundry and books first. Soon I had large piles, but there was a little red spot of carpet where I could put my knees if I kept them together. Keeping my breath shallow because I knew that any violent expulsion of air would send piles of trash, laundry, CDs, girlie things, toys, and God knows what else tumbling onto me, I worked my way, inch by inch, to the east.
I have found 18% of our dishes despite the 'no food upstairs' rule. I am happy to have them back. Two partially filled water bottles, which I throw in a pile near the door.
No iPod today.