What am I? The Maid?

 

Rich: Why are you putting that glass in the sink?

Me: Because I'm done with it.

Rich: Put it in the dishwasher.

Me: I will.

Rich: When?

Me: Later.

Rich: Why later? I don't understand.

Me: I don't know, I don't understand either.

And so it goes, the constant battle with myself to keep this mammoth 2300 square foot house clean. It is hard not to revert to the devil-may-care sloppiness of my youth. Particularly when there's no one to govern my manly inclination towards disorder. 

One part of me says, "who cares?" The other, more mature part of me, the one that carries Deb's voice in my head, prefers the place to be tidy, orderly and operating room clean. 

It's a tall order. Especially when the mother and daughter team (two very sweet women who seem to laugh and cackle more than they scrub and scour) constantly flake out on my bi-weekly cleaning services. 

And so I've purchased all kinds of gizmos to make the task all the more easier. 

Like Bitey, my robotic vacuum from the Shark Co. Per the mobile app. instructions, I gave my vacuum a name, a good aggressive name that I had hoped would reflect its dirt-seeking personality. But half the time I end up watching Bitey roll right over a down feather from the couch or an errant crumb from Taco Tuesday. 

And like a schmuck, I will bend down and move the offending material right in its path. Again, to no avail. 

I also have a a Bissell SpinWave Machine which turns electricity into a self-propelled whirling dervish. 

Note the two rotating pads, which if left unattended and unguided, will spin out of control, blow past my screen door and end up in Cleveland. Or Alaska, depending on which pad is more dominant.

And I have begun learning some useful life hacks from my daughters, both of whom keep their two Santa Monica apartments fastidiously clean and annoyingly girly, but have no compunction about coming over here and tossing the place upside down like a late summer Topeka Twister.

For instance, given that I have two lemon trees in the backyard and more lemons that either I or the local rats and squirrels can use, Abby showed me how to cut a lemon in half, sprinkle it with coarse kitchen salt and use the homemade device with the natural abrasive, to scrub the cast iron pan, the butcher block counter and the stainless steel sink. 

Rich: Speaking of sinks, it's now been 2 cups of coffee and 45 minutes since you began writing this useless piece and the dirty glass has still not traveled the 2 &1/2 feet from the sink to the dishwasher.

Me: Leave me alone, I'm busy.

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Footnote: I just realized today would have been my mom's 89th birthday. Can it be a coincidence that I've had these same conversations with her many, many years ago? Or it is the universe doubling back on itself in a way we will never comprehend?