The Cable Man is Coming!
Do you ever do this?
I know the cable guy is coming, so I start wild cleaning, as if he is going to open up my linen closet, peer in my fridge, and even check to see how neat my underwear drawer is.
Somehow, the fact that a stranger is going to enter in my house, fuels this need to rearrange objets d’art, vacuum under the cushions of the sofa, organize my spices and clean up the cabinets under the bathroom sink.
When he comes, I want to throw open doors, drawers and cabinets and exclaim: Look, look how neat and tidy I am Mr. Cableman.
How silly of me.
I guess I just don’t want him telling his fellow cable guys that he went to a home that was such a mess he couldn’t wait to get out of there.
I want him to think a nice family lives here: A family who not only watches television, but lives a good, clean life. A family whose beds are not just changed weekly, but whose beds are fussed over, lace edges on sheets pulled even, pillows fluffed to perfection, and furniture that is dust-free and clutter free. I want him to admire my bedroom – how cozy it looks; how it smells like lavender; how the crisp white curtains flutter in the breeze.
When he politely asks if he can use the bathroom (they always do for some reason) I want the room to sparkle and smell like fresh lemons and freesia. I want the towels to look so pristine and plump that he longs to shower in my bathroom above all others, just to use my towels.
I want him to go home at night and tell his wife he peed in an impeccably clean toilet today.
Why do I care so much about what the cable man might think?
After all, he will go into the basement and the jig will be up. He’ll see the mess that resides just one level lower than the main, sparkly-clean living area and probably presume I sweep dirt under the rug. If he’s wise, he’ll have a Haz Mat suit he can slip on before he enters the creature-crawling catacombs we call “the basement”.
My dirty little secret will be out.
The basement is a wreck and I have no intentions of cleaning it.
posted by mary bishop | 9:11 AM
9 Comments:
Wanna come clean my house?
Lawbrat, I bet I'd have a ball cleaning your house! We'd blare the music and grab a beer and have at it!
This is just a test.
The moment I know someone strange/someone other than family is coming to see me, I fly into cleaning mode too. "Slobs in Disquise" is what we are.
Thank goodness for company otherwise I would never do any deep cleaning. :)
my house could be next. i'd even supply the haz mat suits and music to go with!
Dashababy, I like the name "Slobs in Disquise" -- we should start a newsletter with that name.
Do you get the Flylady's newsletter? Today she said I should focus on my refrigerator...yup, I opened the door and pulled out food, but there was no cleaning because, I didn't think the Cable guy would open the fridge door!
AMK - oh we'd have a grand old time, it wouldn't even feel like work.
In Grandma's day she often helped a friend clean her house, then they'd go to G'mas and clean her house..they also did cooking together and then split up the stew or sauce or cookies etc.
I love to cook with another woman...I find it a soul blending activity.
I can understand Sangroncito...I think people do that out of respect. It's one thing to ask someone to vacuum, dust, run the washer etc. vs. asking them to walk over our piles of clothing or scrape shower crud off the tiles.
Cooking with another person IS a soul blending activity - God, I just adore that turn of phrase! But it's only soul blending in a kitchen with enough counter space for two people. Our old house has one long length of counter as a working area, and all the drawers and some of the cupboards are there - so two people is like *Bump* Sorry. *Trip* Excuse me. *Bump* Can I just get in that drawer? Sorry. *BUMP* CAN YOUR JUST MOVE, FOR GOD'S SAKE???"
Yeah, not so much soul blending as soul destroying.
As for cleaning - it's about the only domestic duty I DON'T enjoy, so I won't clean for the Cable Guy. My wife, howver, will clean for the CLEANING WOMAN.
Nilbo...husband loves to cook and I love not cooking unless I really really want to and all ingredients are as fresh as possible.
It's rare we cook together for that same hip-bumping, s'cuse me, scenario.
Now when he cooks, I play the piano which is visible from the kitchen and I feel like I'm rooting him on. As he chops and stirs I play some of his favorite music and it creates a harmonious yet parallel universe in which we both create...but differently.
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