I had worked since early morning, and I didn't realize there were bits of cat fur rolling down the tiled hallway and across the wood-planked living-room floor. In addition, the sauce pan used to saute mushrooms was still on the stove, minus the mushrooms. The kitchen sink had a few items in it that I planned to put in the dishwasher four minutes before the bell rang--I never got around to it.
There were also two small bags of garbage: one contained a bit of used scoopable litter and the other contained two empty cans of cat food, as well as several items I took from the fridge and intended to, yes, that's right, throw down the garbage shute. Not the cleanest this place has ever been, but certainly not horrific. If I had been given four additional minutes, I could have run to the garbage room and then put everything in the dishwasher. Voila! The place would have looked great! Only thing left would have been the rolling cat hair.
I kept apologizing to this person, a stranger, and stammering about the mess in my apartment. Things were being put in the dishwasher as we spoke. I even used vanilla Febreeze spray to make sure everything smelled super. I looked like an indentured servant picking up for the Queen.
So, now GET THIS, on the way out the woman said, "Go. Clean up the mess. Bye!" Huh? Huh? I repeat: Huh?
I let go of the door, and it slammed, narrowly missing her butt. Through the closed door, I shouted "Sorry!" Let's face it, while I can say this place is a mess, this woman can't.
Mess? She said, "Clean up the mess"? What mess?!?
... Got to clean up that cat hair!