Thirty minutes... what to do with thirty minutes? Hm. The shower needs cleaning.
A little history: my mother is a CLEANER (hi, mom). She cleans the house top-to-bottom every Saturday. As children, we helped her clean. I have always loved a clean house.
One of my summertime jobs in high school/early college was to serve as a housekeeper in the retirement center I'd worked in as a hostess for several years prior. I got to know certain cleaning products and certain cleaning methods.
My poor roommates in college had to live with me: the cleaning-Nazi. Every week the apartment HAD to be cleaned. Kitchen. Bathroom. Dusting. Vacuuming. No exceptions. And we had to use certain cleaning products and certain cleaning methods.
I carried this once-a-week cleaning habit into my first marriage. Every once in a while I think back with a little longing... to my super clean little house in Prinsburg, Minnesota. Pristinely cleaned - top-to-bottom - every Saturday.
Skip ahead several years.
I got pregnant.
Cleaning changed from a once-a-week priority to a once-every-other-week priority to a once-month-priority to hmmm.... I can't remember the last time I really cleaned the house.
And the shower? While pregnant, I used the dangerous-fumes excuse to get Tim to clean the shower. Thanks, Love. I hate cleaning the shower.
When Samara was born, my mom came to visit. And she cleaned the shower.
When Samara was diagnosed with cancer and she was admitted to the hospital, a super-wonderful woman/friend from our church offered to clean our house.
I said yes.
And she is still cleaning our house.
Once Samara was declared cancer-free, I begged to be put on her list of clients. We pay her to clean our house and she does a fantastic job.
But - and I don't blame her at all for this - the shower has not had a good, deep cleaning in a long while.
So, tonight - during my thirty minutes - I decided to tackle the shower.
Oh my goodness. I'll get right to the gross part - because I want to relax with Tim for a bit before bed - but I started wiping down the floor and there were a few hairs coming out of the drain... I started pulling... and before long I was yanking out gobs and gobs of AHCK-&#*$)(*!* with a screwdriver... almost crying. I felt like I was on Fear Factor.
Here is a picture of Tim doing the same task last summer. I think we'll do this more than once a year in the future.
My pear pie is finished. My hands are raw from harsh chemicals. My shower is clean. I've told you all the story, so I can let go of it now. Thanks for listening.
3 comments:
I think that cleaning every Saturday must be a Dutch thing. My mom did the same thing. The downstairs bathroom was my job. As for my room...the only requirement was that I keep the door closed during the day and kick a firepath from the bed to the door at night. Of course it took about 13 years for my parents to finally give up and make this arrangement. :)
As a child I felt Mom put cleaning before my sister and I, and swore that I would NEVER make cleaning on Saturday a priority, and I haven't. On Saturday we do whatever and I try to get the cleaning done during the week on one of my days off.
I haven't been doing a very good job keeping up on the housework lately. Samantha's needed me more and is more active and demanding of time than her sister every was.
Last week Mandi finally had enough and cleaned the bathroom and swiffered the hardwood floors. Whn I asked her about it she said "Mom, I just couldn't handle it anymore...it was getting to me."
She's a good kid. And alot like her grandma. :)
OH, what a fantastic account of your house-wifery evening! The pear pie sounded good - I have some ripening pears sitting in my fruit bowl... maybe you can send me the recipe? I do miss the time before i went back to work when I was able to keep on top of cleaning, cooking, laundry etc... there is something so satisfying about having it all done!
Fi
x
This was a story-to-be-told, Heidi, and had me laughing hard by the end! Shower/bath cleaning has always been my nemesis, primaraily because of the hair issue...knots of hair lead to a mixture of near-tears and nearer-gagging, like it's all ready to burst! In any case, your baking is inspiring...I'll admit to buying a pie at the farm stand this weekend. I can cook, but baking skills will perhaps emerge with my loss of maidenhood? We'll see.. take care, shelly
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