Cleaning Philosophies

My mom cleaned houses for 10 years when I was kid. She 'owned' her own 'company'. What that means is that she put an ad in the paper and cleaned 2 houses per day. You shoulda seen the weight that she lost. If I ever get fired, I think I should start doing that. : ) My mom can give me pointers.

 

She lost weight, but she was also dead tired when she got home from work...tired with a capital T. One night, she fell asleep in her car upon arriving home. She stayed there until Sister and I found her around 8pm. Her normal arrival time at home was 5:30.

 

Just as nurses and doctors neglect their own health, so this particular housekeeper neglected her own house. I was about 10 and full of energy even though I was fat. Being the good little daughter that I was, who yearned for normalcy, I started cleaning the house. And mailing the Christmas cards. And decorating the house for Christmas. And pushing my parents to buy Christmas presents. And take us to school. You get the idea. I wanted that nice sitcom life and Mom and Dad weren't going to provide it, so I started looking for ways to do it myself.

 

You would think then that my apartment would be immaculate and I would be acutely aware of germs and their brethren. Alas, my apartment's a mess and I'm not very picky. However, some people are. So you can imagine MJ's horror, prior to her professional demise in this office, when she saw me one day with my bagel directly on the breakroom countertop while I applied liberal cream cheese.

 

She goes, "S, you are grossing me out!"

 

"Exsqueeze me?"

 

"Ewww, you're doing that right on the counter? Do you know how dirty that is?"

 

"No...don't they clean this place every night?"

 

"Yeah, but that stuff just gets to me. For God's sake, use a napkin!"

 

Incredibly embarrassed (yeah I'm sensitive about having grown up with little to no instruction from my parents in this particular department). So I snagged a napkin and continued to apply cream cheese. This idiot was always indirectly insulting me. Like, "Most people learn that growing up..." and I found myself saying quite often, "Well, I didn't. Terribly sorry."

 

Thus far, we've established that MJ was a neat freak, right?

 

After she bit the dust (her demise is listed in my blog somewhere), I inherited her computer, including her keyboard and mouse.

 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the neat freak's keyboard and mouse were covered in grime which I had to spend half an hour scrubbing off with a damp cloth.

 

Oh the irony.

 

I hear she's a telemarketer for a local company now. I pray that if I am let go, that doesn't become my fate. Although I wouldn't mind working for the company she's at.