Getting dirty while getting clean
A friend of mine is coming over after work and I have to spruce up the place before she arrives. She’s usually prompt, so I only have about a ½ hour to clean. Even though there’s nothing dirty or disorganized, I still want to make everything look (and smell) clean and tidy.
Since my Ecuadorian cleaning lady, Consuela, is visiting her family back in her home country of Scarborough, Ontario, the cleaning duties are regulated to me.
For the next 30 minutes, I resemble Melanie Griffith in the Working Girl scene where she’s frantically vacuuming Sigourney Weaver’s apartment in her panties because she’s returning from her “vacation” after breaking her leg on the slopes.
The only difference is I’m not wearing panties… or anything else.
Why should I get my clothes dirty while getting my place clean?
Everything is vacuumed, the toilet, sink and polished nickel fixtures are scrubbed, I pour some fresh-smelling cleaning agent in the toilet scrubber’s holder, the mirrors are Windexed, the cups washed, the flowers arranged, the pillows plumped, and the air is sprayed with some nondescript air freshener.
What was styled is now fluffed. The only thing that’s missing is the photographic crew from Metropolitan Home.
As I pass by the living room, the phone rings. It’s her.
“Hi.” She sounds tired.
“Hey, so what’s up?” I say excitedly because she’s about to come over after a few months of non-communication.
“I just got off of work.”
I know what she’s going to say next, I think.
“And, I was wondering is we could save this for another day…”
And, I was right.
“Well, I just got everything prepped for your visit. The place is clean and I had something ready for us to eat.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs.
“But, if you’d like, I can come over to your place and bring dessert!” I’m hoping for an answer in the affirmative.
“My place is such a mess.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. That’s no excuse. “We can sit in the family room.”
“I just don’t want you to see the place like this.”
And, I don’t.
Those who have known me for a while know I am meticulous in everything I do. When it comes to aesthetics, nothing passes my critical eye. But, people think that since I live my life in a detail-oriented way, I expect everyone to follow suit. They’re mistaken. I don’t care what people do with their lives, but there is no exception for my life to be disorganized.
“Oh well, another time, I guess…” I say, disappointed we won’t be seeing each other, catching up on the days of our lives.
But at least the place looks spotless, even though I’m naked and sweaty, sitting on the floor of my living room.
Since my Ecuadorian cleaning lady, Consuela, is visiting her family back in her home country of Scarborough, Ontario, the cleaning duties are regulated to me.
For the next 30 minutes, I resemble Melanie Griffith in the Working Girl scene where she’s frantically vacuuming Sigourney Weaver’s apartment in her panties because she’s returning from her “vacation” after breaking her leg on the slopes.
The only difference is I’m not wearing panties… or anything else.
Why should I get my clothes dirty while getting my place clean?
Everything is vacuumed, the toilet, sink and polished nickel fixtures are scrubbed, I pour some fresh-smelling cleaning agent in the toilet scrubber’s holder, the mirrors are Windexed, the cups washed, the flowers arranged, the pillows plumped, and the air is sprayed with some nondescript air freshener.
What was styled is now fluffed. The only thing that’s missing is the photographic crew from Metropolitan Home.
As I pass by the living room, the phone rings. It’s her.
“Hi.” She sounds tired.
“Hey, so what’s up?” I say excitedly because she’s about to come over after a few months of non-communication.
“I just got off of work.”
I know what she’s going to say next, I think.
“And, I was wondering is we could save this for another day…”
And, I was right.
“Well, I just got everything prepped for your visit. The place is clean and I had something ready for us to eat.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs.
“But, if you’d like, I can come over to your place and bring dessert!” I’m hoping for an answer in the affirmative.
“My place is such a mess.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. That’s no excuse. “We can sit in the family room.”
“I just don’t want you to see the place like this.”
And, I don’t.
Those who have known me for a while know I am meticulous in everything I do. When it comes to aesthetics, nothing passes my critical eye. But, people think that since I live my life in a detail-oriented way, I expect everyone to follow suit. They’re mistaken. I don’t care what people do with their lives, but there is no exception for my life to be disorganized.
“Oh well, another time, I guess…” I say, disappointed we won’t be seeing each other, catching up on the days of our lives.
But at least the place looks spotless, even though I’m naked and sweaty, sitting on the floor of my living room.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
9 Comments:
mmmm naked sweaty boys....
A clean house is always nice. Spouse always dashes around before an impending visit. Me, I don't care if people see it dirty.
"What was styled is now fluffed." Heh. You're a fluffer.
That's hot.
I crank up the ipod too, though I have a tendency to wear boxers... sorry. I'll refrain from commenting on the cleaning lady.
Do you do outcalls?
i clean in my undies. for the exact same reason.
and its happened before too...where the guest im cleaning for doesnt show. it sucks. but at least the place is clean!
Blood, sweat, and tears all for nothing? I'd have killed her. But, say, now that you're all sweaty and naked on the floor.......
as far as cleaning/maid movies are concerned, i much prefer Ally Sheedy in Maid To Order, when the vacuum explodes on her.
can't you just take some satisfaction that you have a clean home? And can take a shower, do some laundy?
What? That sucks? Nah, it's your friend that owes you big time. Make her pay next time at the bar.
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