Thursday, August 19, 2010

It's not that I'm hard to please. Well, yes, upon reflection, I guess it is that exactly.

So.

I had someone come clean the house for us yesterday. I would say "I had someone come clean the house for me" because as I mentioned, I am the only one who cleans the house. But we all live here, and the whole house was cleaned for our use and enjoyment. So "us" it is. The house was cleaned. For us. Yesterday. It was my Cinderella moment. A fairy godmother was going to wave her wand, and my house would be clean. And I would only have to work 2 extra shifts at the cafe to pay for it ! YAY ! TOTALLY WORTH IT, I had decided.
I am a waitress. I clean up after people for a living and I am certainly in no position to have a maid or a housekeeper BUT. I don't want to clean up after my own family on my day off because then I am literally cleaning all the fucking time. So. I hired someone to clean my house. I swallowed my pride, and found the money, and paid someone to clean up after me.

There are some things that are easily overlooked in my day to day cleaning. Little hidden corners, dustbunnies under the beds, etc. So I made a list - a very clear list. It had 5 things on it. Things that were important to me. I showed this list to the guy who pulled up on his moped with a vacuum strapped on to the back with a bungee cord. (Gosh, I hope that guy was in the neighborhood to clean my house and not just out for a joyride.) I brought him inside, and showed him the places, and gave him the list of Things That Were Important.


Not on that list? Lifting every piece of Lego off of my son's lego table and dusting underneath. But he did that. And safe in the confidence that he would apply that attention to detail to the items on the list, I went off to the grocery store.

And I learned something. I learned that when someone cleans my house, I come home and run around checking to see if they cleaned the places I had listed that I wanted cleaned. I walked in the door, dropped my groceries, hit the ground and stuck my arm under a cabinet to check for dust.

There was a lot of dust under there.

I went into the hallway and closed the door behind me. Lots of dust there too.

I walked down to the bathroom. The tub wasn't clean.

And I got really, really sad.

And then I dragged out my cleaning supplies, and went down my list, and cleaned the places I had specifically written down:
Behind the doors
Under the furniture
Windowsills
The tub
The shower grout

Not major stuff, but things that were exactly the sort of things I wanted to have someone else take care of. Details. The little things that add up to a truly clean house. I don't feel like a princess. I'm still Cinderella.

God I suck. I am sitting here complaining about my maid. That? Is a first. Me and Naomi should hang out sometime.

2 comments:

becca said...

someone I know had that EXACT experience...I wonder if this guy moved from Ontario to Hawaii...keep trying! really! it's like a hair dresser or a massage therapist, or a husband. they are not all equal and the first one might not work right.

Judie said...

I would call and complain! When I pay someone to do a job, I expect it to be done to my specifications. Keil was a bed-wetter when he was little, and the maid made up a wet bed. She also threw a wool sweater in the washer, and broke one of Joey's prize toys. I was livid! I found a new maid after she came and cleaned again, no charge, of course.