The Golden Rule of Cleaning (Husbands: Take Note!)
By Lisa René LeClair on February 07, 2014
Yesterday was cleaning day. And for anyone who's ever had to tackle that chore without interruption, I applaud you–almost as much as I hate you.
I'm convinced that the smaller your house is, the harder it is to clean, so it's not surprising it takes me all day to clean ours. I guess it's because all the stuff that used to have its own space is now crammed together into one tiny corner of the room like a pack of teenagers at the mall. And when it's time to vacuum the floors, they cling to each other in hopes of avoiding another interaction with the law. My husband knows that the house is off limits when I'm cleaning; it's been that way since the first time I caught him tiptoeing across my freshly mopped floors and was forced to set him straight...
"What the hell do you think you're doing? I just MOPPED in there! Get the hell out of my house and DO NOT come back in until I'm done!"
You'd think after the first 47 times he heard me bitch about the same thing over, he'd get the message and stay away. But thinking isn't something that my husband likes to do–especially when it comes to my rules. This morning, I asked him to get the vacuum cleaner out of the shed for me before taking the daughter to school. I didn't bother to remind him of my Golden Rule because I knew he was aware of my intentions for the day. And as I waved them off with my orange rubber glove, I began calculating the amount of time that my house would actually stay clean.
I can't remember when it happened exactly–it was somewhere in between scrubbing a toilet and cleaning the litter box–when I heard the familiar sound of a trash can being dragged up the driveway. "The ears don't lie," I thought, and when I opened up the door, he was looking right at me. I reminded him of the one thing he had to do that day if he wanted to stay alive, and then I pointed to his car and advised him that the restaurant down the street ALSO had a bathroom–and free Wi-Fi! I sensed a little anger when he claimed that "this is bullshit," but I remained dedicated to the cause and closed the door in mid-sentence to avoid a confrontation.
An hour or so later, I peeked out the window and saw his car still in the driveway. He never came in and I never heard him leave, so your guess is as good as mine as to where he might have relieved himself. Now some might say that I was too hard on the boy–that I should have let him in and use the loo. But personally, I don't think I was hard enough. There's a 50/50 chance he'll make the same mistake next time, but I'm hoping that the notice I stuck to the back door will serve as a reminder not to do it again...
STOP – DO NOT ENTER – RESTRICTED AREA
This area is for upper management and janitorial staff ONLY! Anyone found entering, or attempting to enter the premises without prior written approval will be permanently banned from this facility and stripped of all privileges. If you're not here to clean, you shouldn't be here; and if you're smart, you'll stay the hell away until advised otherwise.
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