Clean House

Cinderelly and I share the ability to be vain and adorable amidst a dust rag and grease mop

I love my Fridays. Of my two days off (neither of which are traditional weekend days) I’m in school all day for one of them, so Friday is MY day. My day to do whatever the hell I want, and if it were up to me, it’d be filled with cookies and cupcakes and pajamas all day on the couch w/ Binxy. So of course, I haven’t been able to spend a single Friday like that. The gym, errands, baking and meal planning take up a good portion of the day. There sure have been a lot of phone calls and emailing going on, it’s like I’m getting married in three weeks or something. Weird.

I’ve got this thing, and I might be waving my freak flag here, but I can’t really be comfortable in a messy environment. The first thing I do when I get to work is take five minutes and organize the station how I want it. The first thing I do when I get home from work is put my shoes away and hang my jacket. The first thing I used to do before Brent ruined everything do when I wake up in the morning is make the bed. I’m not ADD or anything, I just like things to be where they’re supposed to be. And clean. And organized. 

Here’s the thing: Friday’s are my day. And I don’t want to spend my day cleaning. Not that it takes all day to clean a two bedroom condo, but when you have a cat that leaves litter and fur EVERYWHERE it’s not the quick 1.5 hour job it used to be. The last few Fridays have been especially filled w/ errands and phone calls and thank you card writing and the like that when I finally get a minute to sit on the couch w/ that cookie, the last thing I feel like doing is getting back up to mop the floors. 

I know what you’re thinking: why the hell isn’t Brent taking over the cleaning? The thing about my lovely little Brenty is that he could care less whether the bed is ever made, whether the counters have crumbs all over them, whether the sink is discolored with a weeks’ worth of toothpaste stains (gag). As long as the internet is working and there’s beer in the fridge, he’s happy as a clam. To any girls out there dating the Danny Tanner type: I’m insanely jealous.

Instead of wasting my Fridays dusting and mopping, I’ve developed a few shortcuts to making the house look like I spent the morning cleaning. Because you know what makes a marriage work? Deception Magic. 

Make the bed: Your room will look 80% less messy; that’s a real statistic, btw.

Wipe the countertops and table: Gleaming counters and tables give the illusion of cleanliness, even if that’s all it is; an illusion.

Empty the sink and dish rack: Nothing makes me lose all hope for humanity faster than a sink full of dirty dishes. If you have a dishwasher, there’s no excuse. If you don’t have a dishwasher, just do them as you use them; the bigger the pile gets, the more likely you are to end up throwing out perfectly good flatware b/c it spawned some mutant mold. 

Vacuum and sweep: Personally, I love vacuuming. It’s the most bang for your buck, in my opinion. You run the vacuum over the carpet and bam! Those little vacuum lines shout to the world that you made an effort. I’m all about instant gratification. If you have hardwood or linoleum floors, running a broom over them goes a long way in making the place look tidy.

Some people say you have to dust to get the real clean effect, but I absolutely hate dusting. I used to do it weekly, but I’ve fallen into the nice routine of doing it when I know we’re having company. Which works out nicely in cases like last night, when Brent’s parents decided to drop in. There’s really only one solution for that; close all doors off the living room and keep the vino flowing so no one notices.