After our late night rearranging our bedroom, putting together the new dresser, and completely freaking out our oldest dog Taylor (she had a major "Who moved my cheese?!?" moment), I looked into our guest room. It was awful.
It had been awful for a long time, really. We had been using that room to store a lot of things: unpacked suitcases (including stuff from our honeymoon), things to give to Goodwill, an old TV stand, books to read, etc. The previous night we had added the old dresser and my grandmother's vanity. When we moved the vanity into the guest room, Phil said, "You can still use it to get ready. Just do it in here." The reality was, even though it was right next to the door, I couldn't have gotten to it if I wanted to.
I should have taken a picture, but I was too embarrassed. I honestly looked like a room from Hoarders, but replace garbage with clothes and suitcases.
So while Phil worked on moving some shelves in the bedroom for me, I cleaned the guest room. Cleaned out every unpacked bag, went through our old clothes in there, went through some shoes, went through our books, went through the boxes of stuff from my parents' house, organized our travel stuff, dusted EVERYTHING, vacuumed, and put together 5 full garbage bags plus a huge box of stuff for Goodwill.
Phil was very impressed with my efforts. And so was I. I had gone on a cleaning rampage. It was me against the mess. And I won.
Later, when talking with Phil, I discovered why it NEVER goes that quickly when he and I clean together. When cleaning out the unpacked suitcases, I came across A LOT of band-aids and tampons. I never like to be caught off guard, you see. But when it came to cleaning out bags, I didn't want to have to keep track of those things. I feel the same way about extra buttons, in case you were wondering.
So I ended up throwing away probably close to an entire box of both band-aids and tampons.
Phil's response: Why'd you throw those away?
Me: We don't need them and they were in my way.
Phil: That was very wasteful.
Me: You didn't even know we had them. You won't miss them.
Obviously this conversation revolved around the band-aids, since Phil somewhat refuses to even touch a tampon box (slight exaggeration).
Phil likes to look at every gum wrapper, every receipt, every piece of mail. When I get in the zone, if I am not totally emotionally attached to something, it goes.
So after massive cleaning Saturday night and cleaning Sunday, I made a roast and baked potato for dinner and that peach cobbler. I also created my own textile, fed the homeless, and solved world peace. Obviously I am Wonder Woman.