Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Anatomy of a House Cleaning

I’m on vacation this week. Vacation means blissful days of sleeping in entirely too late followed by evenings of sedition and general debauchery. So, I knew it was bad news when I found myself awake for no particularly good reason at 6 AM.

The apartment had reached critical mass, you see.

It was time to Clean.

6 AM. Clearly, I had not had enough to drink the night before.

Let me preface this by stating, for the record, I am not a good housekeeper. If I could pound a beer for every time this place has been dusted or vacuumed, I’d be pretty damn sober.

There is dust on the window sills that I think may have been pollen from last spring.

The apartment reached critical mass in miniscule increments over several months – crumbs from many fabulous meals littering kitchen surfaces, toothpaste gunk creating interesting abstract sculptures on fixtures in the bathroom, piles of laundry that created an entirely new "rug" on my bedroom floor.

The fact that in avoiding doing laundry I had, over time, bought enough underwear that – when it was all washed - I would not run out of underwear for the next two months.

My mother arriving for Easter dinner last weekend was not enough to compel me to clean. Of course she arrived a half hour early. That compelled me to rake the trash out of the bathroom. However, it was not enough to move me to take down my Christmas tree.

Despite that, for whatever reason, the assorted mess (or my general psychosis) affected my mind with its chatter this morning. Still, I gave it a good three hours or so to sweat it before I gave in and began sorting laundry. Couldn’t let it think it had the upper hand, you know. That’s how things like The Amityville Horror start. One minute you’re sorting laundry and the next you’re trying to chop up your family and dealing with an unruly fly population. It’s just not right.

I finished as much as I was willing to do by about 3 PM. I have learned today that, when throwing away items that are considered "recyclable", it’s important to time your trips to the dumpster for when the tree huggers are not watching. They will try to make you feel bad and may, if not sedated by pot, try to hit you with items made from hemp. Like rope. I have also learned that, when you have long hair and have not vacuumed your apartment in many moons, that your vacuum cleaner will balk. It’ll try real hard for about 15 minutes and then just…suck.

Finally I learned that, as much as you think you may have accomplished today, there is some other thing you didn’t get to that will lurk in the shadows and run the risk of waking you up at 6 AM with its own brand of chatter tomorrow. I call this thing my bathroom.

I have taken pre-emptive steps. It involves a Lysol bomb, a case of beer and a rag covered in chloroform. Now, the question is: how can I trick myself into smelling the rag?


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4 comments:

Ari said...

Hmm... sounds like my place. Only add the odd dog poop here and there.

Dave Morris said...

Rake the trash. Classic.

Lightning Bug's Butt said...

I drink while I clean. One makes the other so much sweeter.

Miss Sassy said...

My roomies caught me with a beer in one hand and a dust rag in the other and got confused.

I told them there was no way I'd give a rip about the dust if I didn't kill the "you shouldn't be the only one doing the cleaning around here" chatter.

They brought me home a 12 pack.