Now that I’ve been back home for a week or so, the state of cleanliness in the house was becoming a major irritant. Since a maid is no longer in the budget (although I have to admit – unemployed with a maid would be an epic pimp move), I had to accept the fact that I was going to give up the better part of a day doing housecleaning. Several things caught my attention and/or ire :
- First and foremost, my cat, Clifford, loves to watch me clean. Loves it. I guess this is a corollary of one of his behaviors that always made me laugh : whenever I clean out his litter box, he stakes out a position about two feet away, watching intently. The second I am done cleaning out his litter, literally that second, he trots over to the box and immediately sticks his head in and starts rearranging the litter. It’s as if I can hear him saying “oh no…. you fucked this all… up…. this pile goes…over here”
- When I’m done cleaning, Cliff doesn’t appear as appreciative as I would think he would be. I mean, I’m not quite sure how I expect him to express his appreciation – sending me a card is probably outside his abilities – but if a dirty floor is annoying to me, imagine how gross it is for him? I mean, he’s like right down there all the time. Of course, this is an animal that routinely licks his own anus, so our comparative standards of ‘gross’ probably vary wildly. Moving on. [otw_shortcode_sidebars sidebar_id=”otw-sidebar-2″][/otw_shortcode_sidebars]
- The pad on a Swiffer is exactly one inch wider than every crevice in your bathroom. Fact. Swiffer pad? Ten inches. Distance between toilet and bathtub? Nine inches. Between toilet and cabinet? Nine inches. Pedestal sink base and wall? Nine inches. Just enough to have to turn that bitch sideways and do an awkward shimmy that you’re pretty sure isn’t cleaning anything.
- Since I was going all in on cleaning today, I even took out that plastic silverware holder that fits snugly in the drawer. Washing it by hand, I got it clean except for one mysterious yellowish stain in one of the compartments. I spent damn near half an hour, and burned about 300 calories trying to remove that stain. Sure, I had lived with it without issue since Dubya was in the White House, but now – now that shit had to go, and it was a life or death matter. I’m mixing up chemical cocktails and standing on chairs to get more leverage for scrubbing.
- So, it’s 2014, and from what I can ascertain from watching television ads, we now have cordless power tools that can split the Hope Diamond in half and then turn in to a sentient being and build a house, all without requiring a charge. So where the fuck are we on a cordless vacuum? How often is the average person using a drill? Once a year? And you’re relatively immobile when using a drill. But a vacuum, constant movement. Somewhere, somehow, the technology exists. Let’s get that done, science.
- Am I the only one, that once I get rolling on a cleaning mission, starts to look through all the cleaners I have stocked up and trying to think of a surface to use them on? “Oh, leather cleaner! I think that chair upstairs is leather…”
- Speaking of, stainless steel cleaner looks a LOT like semen. Like, a lot. Uncomfortably so.