Chaos in the Dungeon

The Dungeon, and all things Chaotic!

Chaos
Main Entry: cha·os
Pronunciation: 'kA-"äs
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin, from Greek
1 obsolete : CHASM, ABYSS
2 a often capitalized : a state of things in which chance is supreme; especially : the confused unorganized state of primordial matter before the creation of distinct forms
3 a: a state of utter confusion b: a confused mass or mixture.

Definition #3 would apply to my life at the moment. We have been attempting to get our house into some sort of order before family comes to visit this summer. This is no easy feat. Our basement is in a state of absolute chaos, as defined by both #3a and b, as well as by #2. Trust me when I say it certainly does smell like some sort of primordial matter down there.

The odor is not due to anything filthy, although dust and cobwebs are visible. The funk is associated with old water damage (the leak has since been repaired) mixed with the horrific aroma of Kilz paint. The tiny store room is the culprit in this matter. As we could not store anything in there until we complete the painting process (the mold is no longer present, thanks to a walloping dosage of chlorine bleach), all of my kitchen gadgets, surplus supplies, boxes for storage and other manthoms are sitting in the middle of the basement proper. Opened, of course. Husbands seem to prefer clutter.

Ohio is quite the humid state. This humidity, while doing wonders for the skin and lungs, permeates all things porous. Even concrete is not impervious to the moisture. We have a de-humidifier for the house, which keeps the air crisp, but it does nothing for the "dungeon". The basement is bound to stink when it becomes humid outside.

Add to this the factor of five dogs, which inhabit the basement when we leave the house. We do not believe in outdoor dogs, and our animals do not smell doggy as they keep clean by remaining indoors most of the time. (This also means they do not suffer from parasites such as ticks or fleas, and their changes of being infected with heartworm are next to nil.) They go to the yard only to do their duty. You would not expect the basement to smell like dog, yet, it does. They have their kennels and beds down there; a cool retreat during the hot summer months. Add the dog smell to the primordial smell, and the basement reeks. I even shudder to think about it.

We are working hard to repaint the basement, after which we shall repack all the open boxes and place as much as we can (neatly) into storage. From there, we shall progress to the top floor, and tackle the two spare rooms (which also contain boxes and are in need of a good coat of paint on the walls.)

I need to add here that we have only recently moved into this house, and thus there is much still to be done to put our mark on it. My husband calls it Nesting.

Speaking of that... My husband has just put on the new shorts we purchased yesterday. He is a stubborn man, and didn't want to try them on. Have you seen the Seinfeld episode with George's 'pooch pants'. Oh Lord, my husband is doomed. Will he return to the store and exchange them for a smaller size? No. "They'll shrink." It is just one more bit of chaos added to my week.