12-23-01, Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb, 844 words
Don't Move That Pot
By Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features
"So.......
what you are saying is that YOU have to trick YOURSELF to
clean?" My oldest son was stymied by my logic.
"Of course I do." I replied. "Who wants to spend seven hours to
clean their kitchen?"
Seven hours.
That is how long it took me to take my kitchen from surface clean (looks good
from a distance, but DON'T MOVE THAT POT- OR ELSE!) to sparkling clean. I
cleaned the refrigerator, freezer, cabinet tops, floors, got rid of piles of
papers that had been in untidy stacks for months, wiped surfaces until they
gleamed...... and all because I tricked myself into doing it. I do this to
myself several times a year; it's how I keep Human Services at bay and avoid an
outbreak of typhoid in my home. I simply commit to hosting some kind of
humungous party, and then count down until the deadline...... and clean like a
madwoman. Which, by the end of the day of super duper cleaning, I usually am.
Yesterday was
such a day, and I was in rare form. I got things so clean, that (and this is
really shocking.... you have to know me to know how shocking it really is) they
REALLY WERE CLEAN! So when the first guests began to arrive last night for our
church choir party, they, were agog:
"Oh, your
house is so lovely and so clean!" My buddy Lisa, who had never been at my
home before, said to me.
"Oh, don't
believe it." I replied. "You should come here on a normal day." I
lowered my voice so the others wouldn't hear: "It's usually a
hellhole."
"I don't
believe it." She said, shaking her head emphatically.
"No
really." I had to defend my family abode. After all, usually we exist
perilously close to being lost in our own clutter. My husband and I are glad the
boys are all getting larger as it is not as easy to lose them in a pile of dirty
clothes these days.
"I REFUSE
to believe it." She shook her head, her mind made up. "You always have
it perfect."
See? Now she
thinks I am....... my mother, who really does keep her home perfect at all times
and never, ever has to go through a self-tricked cleaning marathon just to allow
someone in the door.
"Lisa, I am
telling you, we are PIGS, normally." I just can't stress enough that the
glimmering, shining cleanliness she is witnessing is a paranormal event in a
house which is habited by two teenaged boys, a five year old boy, two dogs, two
cats, and my husband and myself who consider ourselves way too intellectual to
lower ourselves by cleaning....... okay, no, that's not it, but it sounded a lot
better than the truth which is that we are generally too pooped from our daily
activities to mop the kitchen floor, even though it feels like it is made of one
side of Velcro and our
feet are the other.
She shakes her
head at me and laughs, walking away, still not believing me. I make a vow to
invite her over, impromptu after a choir practice one Wednesday night when the
clutter is high and the fur balls are a blowing so she can see that I am not
really a super cleaning woman.
My son asks, after hearing the exchange, "If you are going to spend all
that time cleaning so that people won't know how dirty we keep the house, why
would you then spend all that time trying to convince them that you really are a
slob?"
"No, you
don't get it!" I reply. "I am not cleaning the house to TRICK them
into thinking I am tidy; I clean the house for ME, because deep down inside I
WANT things to be overly clean- but I can't dedicate myself to a full 12 hours
of cleaning unless I have some kind of really good reason, like, someone is
coming over, or we are having a party."
Well, it's mixed
up logic, anyway, but so far it is working for me. With my mom popping in for a
visit every month or so, and the occasional choir party or children's gathering
at my home..... Lisa is right, it usually doesn't get all that bad these days. I
am getting so good at tricking myself into to these periodic deep
cleanings...... my house is staying cleaner and cleaner!
"Mom, no
offense, but your logic is just weird." My son can't get me. Our generation
gap is compounded by a gender gap.... and then there is the Kimra factor which
throws just about everyone completely off the charts. I exist, as my husband
likes to say, in my own reality. Which is just fine with me. Because in my
little world, the refrigerator can stay clean, the stove top sparking, the
bathrooms as sterile as a hospital........ if I just host a party every other
month. Not a bad trade off for our health.