I hate housekeeping. Everything about cleaning a house is abhorrent to me. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. There are probably people who like to clean house. They probably say things like, “I love seeing rooms go from messy or dirty to spic-and-span, and knowing I’m responsible for that transition.” They probably say it in a sing-song voice that is typical for people who are losing their minds. I will repeat: I hate housekeeping.
I like cooking. I don’t mind doing laundry. I never complain about paying the bills. But my house is always a mess. Well, except for when the cleaning lady comes by. Then the house is clean and fresh-smelling until it once again isn’t. She and her co-worker speak Spanish, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the word sucia (nasty) thrown around a couple of times.
Since we are readying our house to put it up for sale, some housecleaning is necessary. I’ve been putting off one specific task until I simply couldn’t put it off any more. The cupboard under my sink was a hot mess. I’m talking I-can’t-remember-how-many-years-since-I’ve-cleaned-that-cupboard mess. (By the way, it could very possibly be 30 years. Let’s pretend it wasn’t that long.) My friends, that is the cupboard where we keep our garbage can. Need I say more?
So yesterday, after we got home from our overnight visit to loved ones in Fort Collins, I put on rubber gloves and pulled out a face mask to cover my nose and mouth. I took a deep breath, and opened the cupboard.
I closed it again, and took a couple of deep breaths. I gathered my nerve, and opened the cupboard once again. This time I managed to kneel down and pull out all of the items located inside that cupboard. There were various cleaning products, old sponges, rusty drain stoppers, a box of dishwashing pods that was so old that the pods were all stuck together, plant fertilizer, and Jimmy Hoffa’s body. J/K about JH’s body. It’s still in New Jersey.
I stood up, took some more deep breaths, kneeled back down, and began pulling up the cupboard liner that had apparently been there since Gerald Ford’s administration. I gagged and knew there was only one thing to do.
“Hey Bill?” I sweetly called out to him as he was shoveling rocks. (I’m not kidding. Shoveling rocks.) “When you have a minute, could you come here? I have a little problem.”
About 10 minutes later, he came into the house and recognized the issue. Before I knew it, he was cleaning out that cupboard, just as I knew he would.
“I’ll go to King Soopers and buy some new shelf liner,” I said in my own sing-song voice.
When I came home, he had scraped out most of the gunk that was hiding under the old liners. Unfortunately, King Soopers didn’t have shelf paper. Tomorrow I will go to Ace Hardware, which has everything, and buy some shelf paper. I will practice my sing-song voice along the way. I might even throw in some fluttering eyelashes for good measure.