Doing battle with daily dragons

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Cleanliness is Next to Blogliness

Let me tell you why the Rock Star is outside mowing the lawn at 1.30 pm on a work day.

Moot and PPD are coming home tomorrow.

They’ve been on an extended sojourn of Long Beach, CA to attend to some business and some pleasure (A conference and a 35th wedding anniversary on board the Queen Mary, where they met.) leaving BoyRacer, The Rock Star and myself in charge of the house. Not, I imagine for the faint of heart.

I mean, we’re all adults, but as far as our standards of housekeeping go, we are, in a politically correct sense, “differently clean” to my in-laws. We haven’t spent the week throwing chicken bones on the floor for the dog to take care of, or left dirty underwear hanging from lampshades or anything, but from past experience, it’s best to have Moot return to her house and have it look like NO ONE has been living in it for the past 10 days if one does not wish to receive what can only be described as a “mother clucking”.

There are two other people who endeavour to assist us in the cleaning task. They are The Cleaners and they arrive like clockwork at 10 every Monday morning and more often than not, no one is particularly pleased to see them. While they undoubtedly make life easier for Moot in general, for 2 hours every Monday, life invariably gets more complicated.

I try to stifle the snob that lives in my soul. I really do. Education is both a blessing and burden; you become enlightened to many facts, including the level of ignorance that surrounds you.

The Cleaners are mother and daughter; Cleaner the Elder and Cleaner the Younger. Although they obviously see each other on a daily basis, they always seem to have many surprising things to tell one another at great volume while the rest of the house is attempting to conduct business. This is an example:

PPD: (on the phone) Yes, good morning. I’d like to order a dozen units please to be delivered to…

Cleaner the Elder: OOOOH, WASN’T THAT A DAY ON SATURDAY, YOUNG JIMMY GETTING CIRCUMSIZED?

Cleaner the Younger: OOOOH YEAH, HE CRIED AND CRIED, DIDN’T HE?

PPD: …Um…to be sent to….

Cleaner the Elder: OOOH, YES HE DID! WHAT A LITTLE PAIR OF LUNGS HE’S GOT!

Cleaner the Younger: OOOOH YES, BLESS HIS COTTONS!

PPD: Can I call you back?

And so on and so forth. One cannot help hear this sort of conversation and many other vaguely more disturbing ones in the course of the day, the gist of which could be dramatically improved if either would simply pick up a newspaper that didn’t have a topless woman on page 3.

At any rate, the Cleaners have been and gone this week, making our task of tidying slightly less of a hard slog.

However, having said that, I’m off to grab a broom.