“And the Oscar goes to (your name here) for the cleanest house in the world.”
You’ll never hear those words in your life, so for God’s sake, put down the Swiffer and go have some fun while there’s still some summer left. Or better yet, write that book/screenplay/blog post, take that class, dance in the kitchen, or climb a mountain because no one is ever going to say, “Wow didn’t we have fun at (your name here)’s house last summer. It was so clean – I could have admired her floors all day long!”
I’m really writing this to myself. I make mental notes of things that are dirty as I walk past, then they weigh on me until I take care of them. What kind of crap is that? Who is responsible for this ridiculous behavior?
Apparently it’s hereditary because my father’s grandmother, Carolina was over the top about a clean house. It’s somewhat comforting to know heredity’s to blame although you couldn’t tell by my kids rooms.
In my observations, Italian women come in two types, Clean and surgically clean. The surgically clean ones cover every conceivable surface in plastic. It was a nightmare in the 60’s. Your skin peeled off on the plastic, if you dared sit on the living room couch of a surgically clean woman
The bottom line is, I won’t make more money if I’m clean. I won’t have more friends, neither my kids nor my dog will love me more, and statues won’t be erected memorializing my amazing cleaning arm — dust cloth in hand — raised to get that last cobweb. I will have wasted precious time that I could have spent doing more important things than cleaning.
I’ve never dumped a true friend over cleanliness, and I have to believe people don’t care about mine either. So I’m trying to stop worrying about it. It doesn’t matter. I have yet to see a talk show host ask to interview someone because she or he has great cleaning habits. And I’ve never seen a tombstone that said, “Here lies Sponge Girl, she won the Academy Award for the cleanest house in the universe.”
As my mom once said, “Da hell witta da houza work. Wenna you’re dead, da houze willa still be dirty.” And she was so right. Enjoy your summer, there’s only one month left!