Clean as a Whistle

I admit to doing it.  My mom did it.  I am pretty sure my grandmother (my dad’s mom) didn’t do it.  It is a phenomenon that sweeps the country before major holidays, dinner parties and play dates.  The “it” would be cleaning your house.  Actually, this is not the garden variety of clean; it is… the “full on” industrial-strength clean - the type of clean that is museum quality.  Vacuuming (love to see those dust-bunnies get swallowed), Swiffering (handy little device that isn’t really how it appears on TV, but nevertheless pretending you are on the commercial, complete with singing, dancing and smiling while you clean, as if!), dusting (actually picking up an item, wiping the object with an official, certified cleaning product, as well as underneath and not just around it), clearing the windows of puppy-slime (that stuff is nasty; what exactly is it made of?) and pulling out the big equipment… the carpet cleaner used for those occasional accidents of human and animal origin.

Besides the obvious question of why do we clean before people come to visit, the reality that we don’t keep our abodes like this all the time and enjoy the fruits of our labor prior to folks coming in and dirtying up all of our hard work (we never clean up afterward as well as we do before the onslaught) is probably rooted much deeper in our subconscious.

The fact that we want to present to the unsuspecting guest that when they enter our humble habitat that there really are never any foot step marks (yes, we float!) across the carpet (what did our poor ancestors with shag carpeting do? Besides rake, rake, rake? Thankless job as it must have been); that dust knows it isn’t welcome and only contaminates the weak (or the neighbor’s stuff); mirrors and glass sparkle and shine with no fingerprints and our pets never emit bodily fluids or discard any fur or fluff.

Snap out of it! I have a “lived in” house.  That means my family inhabits these four walls to their fullest.  Remembering back as a child when I couldn’t walk through the living room or dining room before my mom’s bridge club arrived; I vowed to let my family have complete access of our house.  I don’t have professional help, due to the fact that again, when I was a kid, my mom did and my brother and I always had to clean before the cleaning people arrived as to not let them know we were complete pigs.  I could never quite figure out the point.  Somehow I think they really knew this secret.  Plus, not that I have standards, but I do things a certain way and to pay someone the equivalent of several lunches out, or enough to take the family on a well appointed vacation just hasn’t been completely justified in my pocketbook - although, I do reserve the right to change my mind at a future (and rapidly approaching) date.

So, as I continue to rummage around the internet to find the ultimate in housecleaning advice (did you know they actually have 1,800,000 sites (from a Google search – and that was for housecleaning {one word} vs.  house cleaning {two words} which was another 4,500,000) that claim to have the perfect anecdote of this chore, I have much conflict and confusion as to exactly what is the best action plan.  I am determined to persevere, but if by chance you stop by and things are in “lived-in” and disarray mode, know that you are always welcome and the hospitality and pleasure of your presence will outweigh a little dust and a few smudges anytime.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.                       

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-