Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Living with college age kids is a little like having gray hair and acne at the same time; sometimes life just isn't fair. Don't get me wrong, there are times when I enjoy having them around, but I am looking forward to having an empty nest. Well, maybe just a partially full nest as opposed to the clown car we currently live in.
I saw where Nate Berkus was looking for a family who were living together in a small house. I wrote in, but truth be told, I don't think he would last a minute here in the frat house. One is required to have a strong stomach, stronger bladder and patience so long it could circle the globe. The good news is we are not homeless, the bad news is that is the bar we have set in order to survive this is a bottom feeder. Our bar is set so low...(c'mon, everybody now, say it with me, "how low is it?")our bar is set so low we could play pick up sticks with it, a snake could use it as a football goal, I'm too old to reach down for it...well, you get the idea. Making this work is a full time job. The really crappy thing is it has turned out to be my full time job. 3 of my 4 kids require my car for work, school, etc. This means my wheels are gone and I am in a hostage crisis. One would think I was able to get everything done I need to at home, but I am finding out what wasting time really means. I know I accomplish things, but what it is I am accomplishing is what is troubling to me.
My house is clean. Don't applaud or do a cartwheel on my behalf just yet. It takes me an extraordinary amount of time to clean a very small house. By the time I just "pick up a few things" four hours have passed. Here's a little word problem for you: If five people leave two pairs of shoes laying around a room that is approximately 15 feet wide and 20 feet long how long does it take to put them away? Why this math equation didn't show up in my high school class is beyond me. That is math I can get behind. The only isosceles triangle I have seen in my adulthood is the one formed by the piles of dirty dishes left on the counter, but that I just had to know. Go figure.
I ran out of cleaning fluid. This shouldn't be my big conundrum, but I will confess I buy the giant 500 gallon drum and have never run out before. Who owns a lifetime supply of cleaning stuff and runs out after three weeks? It turns out, I do. I run out of the most curious supplies. I have a current run on glass cleaner. We are always out of glass cleaner. I buy a bottle, use it once, put it away and the next time I see it is less than a quarter full. Is someone mistaking it for mouthwash? Are the dogs doing windows while I sleep? It's a mystery, one of several new mysteries that has me dreaming about paper towels and scrubby sponges.
I am currently obsessed, no strike that, possessed by the amount of time I need to do the shopping. I put things in the pantry, never to see them again. It's the Bermuda triangle of food. I never witness anyone eating, but the food magically disappears. It isn't the type of food you think would disappear, either. We're not talking snack crackers, people. It's bizarre combinations like, beans and beef bouillon cubes, or canned green beans and egg noodles, spam and anything. Weird ingredients disappear in the middle of night. I will tell you that I have two "kids" who are of age to drink, so that may explain some of it. But they are also the ones working who go out when they are hungry, so I am not convinced of that answer.
All of this odd ball household behavior leaves my grocery list looking like it is a list from a sci-fi movie. Mike looks at the list and very puzzled asks,"Are you really having to pick up duct tape, lemon cleaner, cat toys and meatloaf fixings?"
"Why, yes, Michael Darling, I need to pick up the oddest combination of things I have ever witnessed in my life!" I say with a smile, while wearing high heels and pearls. "Why are you dressed like June Cleaver?" Michael asks. "Because, the last time I went to the store and picked up this weird, miss-matched bunch of stuff the people stared at me like I was a serial killer. Evidently rope, paint brushes, dog food and dryer sheets are not something people pick up by as a grouping. I narrowly escaped before I got questioned by the stock guy in automotive supplies."
I am perfectly used to my car keys always being gone, or my wallet being broken into for gas or milk. I am not daunted by the endless times I cannot find the remote, my favorite and frequently borrowed flip-flops, or even the stack of mail I had laid down only moments before. What completely freaks me out is this really crazy endless grocery list of all things strange. I hear Michael out in the garage yelling, "Are you serious? We are out of silicone caulk? And where did my WD40 go? Have you seen my head lamp?" I act like I can't hear him, lest he come ask me where all his stuff went. I have my own problems finding things we used to own for decades. Sometimes, I hide in the bathroom if I hear Mike yelling for stuff. I never know where it is anyway, and I have no rational explanation for where it went, so my thinking is why be in the mix?
I had planned on taking single items out the kids room, one at a time, day after day, to see who cracked first. I had this elaborate plan in my head about how I would move things around their rooms, rearrange furniture by mere inches, unplugging things, taking out light bulbs from ceiling fixtures, just crazy stuff just so I could get an "all things weird" confession out of someone. What I hadn't counted on was how time consuming devious behavior is. I learned that I am honest because of the large work load involved in lying and stealing. I got kind of paranoid and thought maybe that is why the little buggers keep leaving their shoes lying around; if I spent all of my time picking up after them, then I wouldn't have the time it takes to be devious and rotten. Now that, is an evil genius plan!