Spring Cleaning

Today I decided to clean my house. Sounds easy you might think, but it can be a perilous endeavor for several reasons. Some aspects of cleaning are automatic, I am almost anal about a clean kitchen, and as a guy that loves to cook, things have to be neat, orderly and sanitary. Secondly, bathrooms are also de rigeur, because there is nothing worse than a nasty bathroom, that includes tubs, toilets and sinks. I had a friend, that when his new girlfriend (and now wife) decided that his house needed an overhaul, showed me the bathroom.  It was the first and only time I have ever seen a tub with a full head of hair, and, believe me, I am not talking about shedding. Underneath the shower mat was an amazing growth of some sort of hairlike creature like I have never seen. I thought of the infomercial potential, but I am not cheesy like that, and that was a little too gross for me.

Guys in general, have different views of housekeeping that vary over time. As a college student, it is about freedom far more than cleanliness, generally speaking. As a young adult, clean enough is good enough. The tendency is to hide things under beds and in closets. As a married guy, spotlessness is usually achieved, usually accompanied by clever accesssorization. Things unnecessary to a single guy become imperative. I, for one, never knew the importance of scented candles, ambience was not high on the priority list. Paper products are another consideration. A single guy needs paper towels and toilet paper. Napkins, Kleenex, etc., unnecessary. It is somewhat of an utilitarian mindset. A paper towel can be a napkin, Kleenex or even a plate when necessary. Tempting as it may be, I will refrain from comments about "guest towels" and decorative soap. I am sure that my readers can fill in those blanks adequately.  The issue at hand is a little different. We have touched on the stages of household cleanliness, but what happens if one finds oneself no longer married?

The first and easy answer is regression, but there is an element of nuance to it. At first, the tendency is to maintain appearances, although this quickly becomes difficult when furniture, darling knicknacks and window treatments disappear. The second phase is total regression, the tendency is to only do what is essential, but, always keep the yard nice. The next phase is rebuilding, which invariably leads to the visual image of college life. What used to be the formal dining room becomes a wonderful game room, that can include pool, foosball, or darts, depending on available space. Personally, I was able to do two out of three, and I didn't have a pool table. The fourth phase is the recognition that the place has got to get an overhaul, but where to start?

By this point, except for the areas of strength, in my case, kitchens and bathrooms, everything else has gone to pot. Windows, riiiight. Dusting, you have got to be kidding. People should be amazed that the houseplants are thriving. This brings us to the obvious next area, floors. I do not know which one of us hates vacuum cleaners more, Sam the Wonder Dog or Yours Truly. Sure vacuuming is an easy and quick task, accomplished quite frequently when one lives with those stricken by allergies. For me, however, if it involves floor level, I dislike it intensely. The only thing I despise more than vacuuming is mopping, must be something about floors. As much as I hate to admit it, I would rather paint the baseboards than clean them. Although I have not tried this, the concept of textured baseboards is a little unsettling. In college, I had a roommate that, when frustrated cleaned the floors. If I wind up with a roommate in the future, that is a quality I would appreciate. For college kids, our floors were spotless.

So, where does that leave us? I am doing the damned floors, don't want to, need to. If I had a good excuse, I would get out of it. Sam the Wonder Dog is out back, out of consideration. The houseplants are still thriving, even the Venus Flytrap that my stepson left behind. The dartboard and foosball table are still in the dining room, the big ass grill is gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, and can expect a loving visit this evening, and I, when I have sufficiently dampened the floors will retreat to the front porch with a cold beer and an Allman Brothers CD and greet the evening.

No houseplants, wonderdogs or other living creatures were harmed in the execution of this cleaning mission or this epistle (with the possible exception of a spider or three). All things being equal, I fully understand Neil Young when he wrote "A Man Needs A Maid." Which, in closing, I have to truly give tremendous respect to my mother and many like her, that juggled careers and managed households in an era that bedsheets had to be ironed, there were no microwaves and daily maintenance was a full time job. I don't know about all guys, but I wasn't built for this, I will continue to give it my best shot, and dream of the day that a vacuum cleaner and mop become little more than a domestic resume' item. Peace!