cleanliness is next to the prozac in aisle 12

Last night I had a dream. Not the twins, this time. Not the little blond hellions running around my legs. No, this dream was about something a lot less fun. Cleaning. Isn’t cleaning fun? I’ve astounded my family in the past year with the fact that yes, I do know how to clean. It’s not going to kill me. I just can find, oh, twenty other things that I’d rather be doing at any given time than vacuuming. Or scrubbing the floor.

If I set out a saucer of milk and some cookies at night would I attract a dishwashing fairy? A kitchen-cleaning fairy? Or just a lot of bugs? Ugh. This morning I began figuring out ways to get my butt in gear and start the indepth cleaning of this house. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten much further than step 1: find a good movie marathon on tv to watch.

There’s no one in the world who can clean as well as those of my grandparent’s generation. I honestly don’t think it’s possible. For some reason unknownst to me but knownst to them, I never learned the trick. My mother and motherinlaw know the trick. Their kitchens gleam almost to the standards of their mothers. While I’m not sure how they come short, I know that they are, their countertops immaculate but lacking something. Their porcelain and stainless steel sinks gleaming. When I was visited after Tiffany was born, my biggest gift was the cleaning of my apartment. My mother in law and her mother cleaned my house. They scrubbed. They dubbed. They didn’t find any old men to put in the tub, but if they had I’m sure I would have woken up from my nap to find some wrinkly grey-haired man grinning at me. My goal for this week is to attempt to imitate this gift.

I’m going to clean. I don’t know how, I don’t know what will set my efforts apart from my past attempts at cleanliness, but I do know that I am going to clean. My kitchen never looked as good as when they had gotten done in there. Sure, I have a pretty good excuse. I’ve got a kid running around, and she’s my first, and that takes some adjusting. Just like my attitude needed some adjusting in the weeks leading up to her birth, and like my boobs needed serious adjusting in the weeks following. I think I’ve made a start. The mountain of clutter in the corners is starting to go down. Baby gear that she’s outgrown is being slowly folded up and put away in the closet and under the bed for my hope of a second little baby in the near future. I know from my own relatives example that if you put this stuff away in clean and tidied condition, it just needs a little airing before pulling it out and using it again. Which, if there is another baby in my future, will be much appreciated.

In the meantime why don’t I set just a little bit of a goal for today? Let’s just get through today without having to make up an errand to get me out of the house to spend money I don’t have on stuff I don’t need. I’ll work on scrubbing that bathroom to within an inch of it’s life tonight. I’ll rub a dub dub. If I find an old man, I’ll leave him out where I found him. My Boy would not be happy to hear about me bringing strange men in the house for the express purpose of putting them in the tub.