I have been sick, so Fred and I decided to get me some help cleaning for a couple of months. We started scouting the house, looking through rooms, deciding which ones needed it the most. Although the boys’ rooms are the worst, this round, we decided to just close their doors. Every other room/area, however, was a GO.
We have a neighbor who owns a home cleaning business, and Fred and I mulled over the idea of hiring her.
“I don’t want her seeing our house looking like this.” Fred said in the preliminary discussion.
I’m sure she’d be discreet, but there would always be the “I know your dirty-little house secrets” relationship between us. The unspoken:
“I had to scrape the dust off on your television with a spatula!”
“I thought there was a sea anemone on your counter. It turned out to be a potato!”
With much guilt, we decided to hire an anonymous company with no ties to us whatsoever. I even wanted to give them a fake name.
On the day before our cleaning angels of were due to arrive:
“I have to clean that bathtub before they come.” Fred stated. Our “kid bathroom” has a slow drain. That, combined with our son Jon’s manufacturing-summer-job filth, “scummed” up the bottom. Plus, I think we washed our dog in it once –“pre-scumming” of course.
“Isn’t the point of hiring someone to clean, actually having them clean?” I asked. After all, our house was not “Fraternity House” dirty. Nor was it “Public Restroom after an AC/DC Concert” dirty, either. It’s just not that clean. Certainly our home in its present 1-2 months worth of neglect condition would not scare our new tidy-uppers.
But…later that day, I found myself cleaning up the kitchen, making sure the dishes were put away, removing the top layer of grunge to reveal bare surfaces. By the time the maids came, a good half of the work was already done.
Still, having someone scrub my showers, toilets and floors was a luxurious, happy, smiley, rainbow with cinnamon sugar type feeling. I happened to be home while they were here, and as I peeked out from my bedroom (where I had been hiding out, keeping out of their way), I saw one of the women on her hands and knees washing my hardwood floors. MY GOD!
My virgin floors have never been kneeled on before!
After they left, I gave the house a “White Sock Test.” I was, unbelievably, able to walk across my floors without getting my socks dark and hairy! Ahhh!
Now I can stop buying dark, hairy socks.