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And I didn’t bother to bend over to pick up anything that fell to the floor for the last three days. Cheerios, threads, bits of plastic. Never mind, I thought to myself. The cleaning lady is coming Friday. By Friday evening, I knew this wasn’t true.
I called her and got no answer. I ignored the mess in all four rooms and was glad the bathroom was at least decent, for another day. But Sunday came and after the gym I figuratively kicked myself in the butt and ATTACKED.
I did a mental list:
I have a new, unused vacuum cleaner – check
I have a broom and dustpan – check
I have a dust cloth – check
I have furniture polish – no, but a micro cloth will do
I have a microfiber dusting wand – check
All I need is ambition and I gave myself 2 hours to get the cleaning done.
But first, I visited the toilet for a Number 2. And the toilet clogged. I don’t know why. It was regular poop, but there it was. Pondering for a few minutes, I pulled up Amazon on the computer and ordered a plunger, paying an extra $2.31 cents
Now, the vacuum cleaner. I dragged it from the closet unfurled the cord, plugged it in and away we go. The motor hummed and crumbs from the floor magically disappeared. Great. But then I noticed that the rotating bar wasn’t . But no matter, the sucker-upper was working. Until it didn’t. The motor stopped cold and the stick slid off.
Settling onto the couch, I read the directions, which I maybe should have done first and tried to re-connect, but it didn’t fit. Impossible, but the wand still remained in two parts.
I check the toilet to see if some miracle happened in that department, but it didn’t.
Now, clean up the kitchen. I scraped, I wiped, I loaded the dishwasher. Flipping the garbage disposal only produced silence. Not the whirring of yesterday’s experience. Clogged? I reached down and cleared the area of cabbage leaves, carrot peelings, and celery strings. Still no whirr. Give it up, Evelyn. Move on.
Using my new broom purchased at the Dollar Store for $4.00, I swept up as much debris as possible.
Next came the dusting with the microfiber wand. Waving the wand around, I felt like Tinker Bell dancing, or a Mary Poppins lady or a TV personality in a commercial. And that got done.
Checking the toilet again, I saw the situation had not changed.
Now I’m going to experience my first Command Strip Mount. With great trepidation, I carefully followed the directions and applied the command stripe to the back of a picture frame, using great force. The picture is of a red flowers, done in water color by a Latino artist. It is an original and was given to me by my daughter-in-law. I liked it. I measured the frame and used a level to mark the wall. Holding the picture firmly in two hands, I walked toward the wall, eyeing up the line and thrust the picture in place, leaning on it with all my weight and muscle. The directions said two people should do this part. So I gave it my all. Slowly removing my hands, it stayed there. In place. And looked beautiful. But I wasn’t convinced and slowly backed up. It didn’t fall and I tiptoed to my bedroom with one cocked for the sound of crashing glass. But all was quiet. Damn, those Command Strips work. At least so far.
Glancing at my watch I noticed that my allotted time for cleaning was up, thank goodness.
There was a soft thunk at my door and I found Amazon had delivered the plunger. Hooray.
I rushed into the bathroom, plunger in hand and toilet had drained. All that smelly messy stuff was gone.
This is just too much. Never, ever will I complain about the price of a cleaning person again.
I need to contact her someway to schedule an appoint. Email, text, phone, somehow I have to reach this wonderous woman to save me from future cleaning disasters.
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