A Doyen of Domesticity, or, Has Anyone Seen Mr. Clean?
The best cleaner I ever knew was a middle-aged man whom I met at work. Possessed of an English degree and tired of life behind a desk, he took a job as a cleaner and general locum, found he liked both roles and spent his days keeping our day and evening worker bees happily humming along.
While I cleaned during my college days for an older woman and various friends in need, it was not until I made his acquaintance that I glimpsed what he termed the "Zen" of cleaning. I grew to appreciate this approach and began using music, meditation or guided imagery as a backdrop to any clearing, tidying or cleaning task at chez moi. Already a neat freak, the peace and serenity afforded me by a clean, organized space represented safety and comfort, two things every home should offer.
Having lived in small, generally spare rooms from earliest adulthood, cleanliness and organization went hand-in-hand as I zipped from job to class to freelance client, took care of animals and completed an advanced degree.
Affectionately dubbed "Mr. Clean" by colleagues, I often wish I had thanked this gentleman for the conversations we had that changed cleaning from chore to accomplishment. I was happier and so were the pets.
Various life events, including the use of a wheelchair changed this a bit. Though I keep the refuse, laundry and pet mess at bay, and the bathroom and kitchen reasonably free of bacteria, I now face conundrums. Dust, high places, floors I can no longer scrub, discolored grout and crevices I cannot quite reach. The pandemic put paid to getting a cleaner and, truthfully, most of those previously used were not worth the money.
In one instance, a vacuum stopped working mid-room because it was clogged with debris from the four previous homes on the cleaner's rota that day. This came out after she admitted that she wasn't given any spare bags...
Another time, someone called post-visit and apologized for not dusting because she forgot...
A third came and made off with my loo brush which she apparently used at a friend's flat. Said friend recognized that the brush did not match her toilet ensemble and called to ask if my brush was missing...
Evidently, we were spending a bit too much time in each other's bathrooms if she could so easily identify my brush...Another casualty of pandemic living...
With the onset of COVID 19, no-one has come in, and I have been both busy and recently sidelined with all too familiar low back, hip and spine issues. Unable to sleep well, I was trolling You Tube recently and found a cache of recordings of the popular British program, How Clean is Your House?
Having watched these several years ago, I was both fascinated and repelled at the level of filth people, most of whom were able-bodied, were willing to live with before calling in professional help. This second viewing also re-focused my attention on the potential health hazards inherent in such a situation and the often cheap and old fashioned ways available to sanitize.
While no persons in my circumstance were featured in this series, it has re-ignited my cleaning urge and I'm now looking for information on adaptive cleaning tools geared to seniors and persons with mobility issues. Hopefully, some of the self-care and cleaning jobs can be done a bit more easily and speedily.
To my "Mr. Clean," wherever he may be...
Cheers!
