2002-09-02 - 9:41 p.m.
THE DISCIPLINE OF CLEANING LADIES
This evening I remember why we pay someone to come in and clean every two weeks. It�s not because I work outside the house part-time. Even when I worked solely at home, we stretched our budget to get someone in to clean. It�s not that I can�t clean. I can�although Mr. Philately is a more thorough cleaner once he makes the decision that something needs cleaning. No, we have a cleaning person for the discipline of it.
Before we had someone to come in and clean, Mr. Philately and I would share the work. Sometimes we would do it on schedule. More often, we�d get a bit behind. All too often, we would clean around clutter. But we aren�t willing to pay someone to clean around too much of the clutter. And therein lies the discipline. We have a cleaning lady so that we will straighten up the clutter every two weeks at least most of the way.
If I were the only person in this house, I�m not sure we would need this discipline. My office at work, the only place that is solely within my control, is rarely cluttered. Some straightening occurs at the end of every day that I�m there. Everything has a place. Everything that doesn�t either gets one or I throw it away. Throwing junk away, however, is an office luxury that I don�t have at home. Mr. Philately generally does not believe in junk.
Now, Mr. Philately�s failure to believe in junk does not make junk non-existent. His subjective view has nothing to do with the objective world, much as he insists otherwise. Nor is there any real point in accommodating his junk. Giving him extra storage space just encourages his category of non-junk to grow. His junk grows to fill the space allotted and then some. When I�ve threatened to cull some of the stuff, he�s threatened to cull me. He�s kidding, I think, but I�m not willing to take chances.
No, the only weapon I have in holding back the clutter is his frugal nature. He hates the thought of paying someone to clean the floor when she can�t even find the floor. He�ll find the floor someone, even if it means parting with one or two lovely but less essential items. (Occasionally, he�ll find the floor by putting his boxes on the bed but, hey, not everything will fit on our bed. It�s a good thing we don�t have a king-size bed.)
I can be neat but once a place is clearly beyond hope, I have a hard time trying. I can come through like a white tornado (for those readers who are young, just know that some cleaning product used to advertise that it cleaned like a white tornado) or I can sink to the level of neatness of the room. It�s a good thing we have a cleaning lady or I�d lose what few standards I have left.
So, some people have a cleaning lady to get a clean house. I settle for a clean-enough house. With no cleaning lady, cleanliness is closer to impossible than to godliness. With her, cleanliness is just beyond our grasp but we make an attempt.
Our cleaning lady never says anything about our messes but sometimes I wish she would. Just think of how clean we might get this place with a little additional motivation. Perhaps when our cleaning lady retires, I�ll look for a cleaning drill sergeant�and send us all to cleanliness boot camp.
LAST YEAR: Lack of Coordination
LAST FIVE ENTRIES:
Never Mind
I�ll Never Grow Up
Bear Mountain Perspective
Delicate Balance
All Wet
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
