15 October 2011

My dirty, dirty house

I'm pretty sure sometimes that I live in a frat house. There are clumps of dirty clothes mixed with supposedly clean clothes strewn across the floors of some rooms. Drips of late night dinner and snacks found on the kitchen floor, counter, table, stove and microwave. Sticky handles on almost every cupboard as well as the fridge and microwave. Both toilets have bases that exhibit signs of 'misses'. Dishes that are growing new and interesting forms of mold can be found on many surfaces, hidden and obvious. And not a single clean water mug is available except the one I use and wash daily. It's starting to drive me bonkers.

I tried to train my boys to do housework, really I did. My mom had my sisters and I do Saturday jobs which involved cleaning and I wanted my boys to do the same. When they were just wee ones and wanted to help out I gave them rags and showed them how to clean. Every day they had to put their toys away to learn that everything has a place or home. For extra money I would have them clean the bathtub, stove top, vacuum or dust. And they learned how to clean a kitchen floor properly - on your hands and knees - after spraying Pledge all over it while I was at work one day.

The two biggest problems I faced with chores were my Bipolar Disorder, undiagnosed at the time, and an Ex that thought only women did housework. Ex was quick to tell me when something was dirty and that I should clean it, but slow to do it his damn self. BD made it difficult to follow up on any plans I made. Oh how I could come up with schedules and chores and lists and activities but then have no energy to make sure these things got done and would let them slide. Until the next Great Idea of how to involve them in cleaning followed by the inevitable overwhelmed feeling of the imminent crash.

Now that I'm much more stable and have removed Ex from the house you'd think that I would have the boys participate in keeping the environment neat and tidy. This is not the case. Now I work full time and am tired and sore when I get home. I have become lazy in my cleaning and wait until I'm thoroughly disgusted with something before making any move to restore it to gleaming goodness. Unfortunately everyone else in the house has a much higher tolerance for grime than I do, so they simply wait until I can't stand it any more and I clean it up.

To make my chores easier for me and potentially anyone else I bought a Swiffer Wet Jet and 360 Duster. Practically as soon as I got home I tried my new Wet Jet on the kitchen floor and was pleased with the result. I felt like a 50's housewife mopping the floor with my newfangled mop and cup of coffee, except I was in sweats instead of a skirt and slippers instead of heels. I'd've taken photos but I had to use the batteries for the camera for the Swiffer. Batteries on a mop? Who knew? The floor looks much better and was very easy to use but will never replace the good old fashioned hands and knees method. The Duster was next in the living room. It did indeed pick up a disgusting amount of dust without too much flying into the air. I couldn't help it though - I was singing 'What About Love?' in my head while dusting and imagining I was picking up little Steve Carrells :) Creepy? Maybe. 

Now somehow I need to work on the other members of the house to use the Swiffers. Maybe even pick up a vacuum or do dishes voluntarily and without complaint. Perhaps take it upon themselves to scrub the tub, wipe down the top of the stove or clean the toilets. What? World peace would be easier? Hrumph.

1 comment:

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