The winter was long and dark with many days overcast with clouds that looked like they’d been beaten up and bruised. Little snow came to cover the frozen dust. Some days the only good news was that there was no bad news.
But then fresh green sprouts began pushing their way through the winter muck. Small yellow and purple blossoms appeared. Spring happens no matter what. And with spring comes cleaning—cleaning house, cleaning the yard, cleaning up my life.
I like to clean. There’s something about cleaning and being clean that says to me “fresh start,” “things are under control,” “I actually can do something about something.” Dust bunnies be gone, I am in charge. House cleaning is a metaphor for getting life in order and I like order. I can’t say when the next dash to the Emergency Room will be but, damn it, I can keep the bathroom clean. House cleaning is really about power.
I also like cleaning house because I have a fondness for stupid little busy work, i.e., chores. Chores take up time, distract one from whatever you need distracting from, and give one the illusion of meaningful activity, of doing something that, really, after all does have to be done. Chores are an existential act, a sign of being, or, if you’re a philosopher, being-ness. Cleanliness may or may not be next to godliness, but it is right up there with human-ness. It’s like your mother used to say about your room: “Does some animal live here?”
Cleaning house is important. It is so important that I am willing to pay someone to do it for me. After all, the exchange of money is the highest form of activity in American society, so it is fitting that this noble endeavor should be further honored by the payment of cash to another to do the actual cleaning.
I keep a pretty clean house and since we don’t have kids or dogs, our house does not collect inordinate amounts of dirt. But still, dirt does accumulate and there are some things that I just won’t do. I will vacuum the carpets but I hate dusting things. I almost would rather throw them away than dust stuff. So, I pay someone else to dust my trinkets and souvenirs.
House cleaners come into my house and make my little house cleaning busyness look like actual work, like a science. I know I can trust these professionals. They know how to tackle a project like dusting wooden slat venetian blinds. I would just slap the things around and get fed up, say it looked good enough and quit. But cleaners take to it like a surgeon doing an operation on a vital organ. They have a plan of attack and follow it. I figure, it’s knowledge and skill I am paying for, not just relief from drudgery. I admire the professionals who actually do take house cleaning far more seriously than I ever do.
I used to be one of those professionals making my living for a time cleaning up other people’s messes while I struggled to make a living as a freelance writer and journalist. It is work cleaning a house and that’s another reason I don’t begrudge someone what I pay them to clean up my dirt.
But sometimes I just let the cleaning go. Today, for example, I did not get around to cleaning the bathroom which does need it. Instead I spent the morning finishing this story. Some things trump even house cleaning.
About the Author
Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.
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