Spring cleaned
Today I really cleaned house. No, seriously.
To wit, I got the bug to make this pigsty less of a, well, pigsty. In part this is perhaps because my roommate left yesterday to go to North Carolina for almost two weeks, so I figured it would be a good time to tackle such a project without having anyone else underfoot. And in part I'm sure this owes to some subconscious thinking that if we're going to have additional roommates this summer, or at least if Colleen is to come visit at some point, they'd probably appreciate the apartment looking like it had been sort of maintained. No doubt the realization that I'm soon to have a nicer place to live with not only roommate(s) interested in cleanliness, but also landlords, has me considering the merits of easing myself back into having to take care of a place. Last, but not least, this was most certainly prompted by my desire to finally have our toilet bowl cleaned, since it was in need of a decent scrubbing. That's the synapsis of my cleaning psychosis.
It (kinda) began last night, on my way home from the Chicago Critical Mass Mass the Drive ride, when I picked up a toilet brush along with other items at Jewel. Feeling thoroughly tired physically from three hours or so of leisurely-to-brisk cycling (my legs have never felt so rubbery trying to walk stairs), I opted not to begin last night, but instead to put it off till today.
Problem is, once I set my mind to doing something minor, like scrubbing the toilet, I get it in my head that I should undertake a comprehensive cleaning project. If I was going to clean the bowl, I might as well scrub the exterior of the toilet. And while I'm at it cleaning the toilet, the wash basin and bathtub ought to get a decent scrubbing. No sense in not totally cleaning the bathroom; better add mopping to my duties. While I'm at it I should mop the kitchen as well. Before I can mop, I need to sweep. And if I'm sweeping the kitchen and bathroom, I might as well add the living room. And for good measure, let's sweep my bedroom upstairs. And the stairway between floors of our duplex. And the stairway from outside.
By the time this madness finished, I also gave a thorough scrubbing to the sink and surfaces in the kitchen; I wiped down the inside of the microwave; wiped off the stove; emptied the trash; rearranged the loose items in the kitchen; neatly reorganized our collection of 34 beer bottles and cans in rough geographic order (west to east above the cabinets, south to north on the window sill); went through my stack of old Baseball Digests and Condé Nast Travelers; cleaned off the coffee table; cleaned off the couch; cleaned off my desk; rearranged my toiletry shelf in the bathroom; wiped off the tablecloth; washed, dried and put away the dishes; hung the heretofore unhung logos cut out of cases of beer; and probably performed many other sundry chores that I can't think to enumerate at present. Phew!
The upshot of it is, I have a (fair the dump we inhabit) a pretty nice place to live at the moment. And with any luck (and some out-of-character tenacity) might even keep it in a fairly tidy state until Joe gets back. At which point all bets are likely off. Although I'll likely commence my decline down this slippery slope much sooner. (Tomorrow?)
In my defense, I think, is the fact that I left some things untouched. Mainly spaces that aren't mine, like Joe's room and desk, but also the library/map room/art gallery, which seems doomed to disorder until we move in August. My original bedroom -- which currently functions as an auxiliary space/closet for me -- also went ignored today, though I did a good job of tidying up in there earlier in the week after I unpacked from my trip. The only thing that could've used was a vacuuming (though it could certainly stand a few coats of unleaded paint), but as we lack a vacuum, it's destined to have a dirty carpet in perpetuity.
I also gained a greater appreciation for how difficult it is to actually keep a place clean. No doubt it would've been easier 1) had we done a better job of regularly cleaning instead of just letting the mess and dirt snowball and 2) had I had better supplies, like a bucket for the mop, instead of using the bathtub, and a dustpan instead of a piece of cardboard. I still managed to catch part of the Angels game on the tube, and I even sat down to watch Game 3 of the Stanley Cup finals in its entirety. But I failed miserably in my more academic or erudite endeavors, like finishing the book I'm reading, studying Czech, revising an article for publication or working on my art.
Hopefully in the future this will inspire and encourage me to not let things fall into such a state of disrepair. Ordinarily I don't think that'd be a problem, but having an apartment that has an impending date with a wrecking ball really undermines any sense of urgency to keep the place more than minimally maintained. Still, who knew being industrious was such hard work?
To wit, I got the bug to make this pigsty less of a, well, pigsty. In part this is perhaps because my roommate left yesterday to go to North Carolina for almost two weeks, so I figured it would be a good time to tackle such a project without having anyone else underfoot. And in part I'm sure this owes to some subconscious thinking that if we're going to have additional roommates this summer, or at least if Colleen is to come visit at some point, they'd probably appreciate the apartment looking like it had been sort of maintained. No doubt the realization that I'm soon to have a nicer place to live with not only roommate(s) interested in cleanliness, but also landlords, has me considering the merits of easing myself back into having to take care of a place. Last, but not least, this was most certainly prompted by my desire to finally have our toilet bowl cleaned, since it was in need of a decent scrubbing. That's the synapsis of my cleaning psychosis.
It (kinda) began last night, on my way home from the Chicago Critical Mass Mass the Drive ride, when I picked up a toilet brush along with other items at Jewel. Feeling thoroughly tired physically from three hours or so of leisurely-to-brisk cycling (my legs have never felt so rubbery trying to walk stairs), I opted not to begin last night, but instead to put it off till today.
Problem is, once I set my mind to doing something minor, like scrubbing the toilet, I get it in my head that I should undertake a comprehensive cleaning project. If I was going to clean the bowl, I might as well scrub the exterior of the toilet. And while I'm at it cleaning the toilet, the wash basin and bathtub ought to get a decent scrubbing. No sense in not totally cleaning the bathroom; better add mopping to my duties. While I'm at it I should mop the kitchen as well. Before I can mop, I need to sweep. And if I'm sweeping the kitchen and bathroom, I might as well add the living room. And for good measure, let's sweep my bedroom upstairs. And the stairway between floors of our duplex. And the stairway from outside.
By the time this madness finished, I also gave a thorough scrubbing to the sink and surfaces in the kitchen; I wiped down the inside of the microwave; wiped off the stove; emptied the trash; rearranged the loose items in the kitchen; neatly reorganized our collection of 34 beer bottles and cans in rough geographic order (west to east above the cabinets, south to north on the window sill); went through my stack of old Baseball Digests and Condé Nast Travelers; cleaned off the coffee table; cleaned off the couch; cleaned off my desk; rearranged my toiletry shelf in the bathroom; wiped off the tablecloth; washed, dried and put away the dishes; hung the heretofore unhung logos cut out of cases of beer; and probably performed many other sundry chores that I can't think to enumerate at present. Phew!
The upshot of it is, I have a (fair the dump we inhabit) a pretty nice place to live at the moment. And with any luck (and some out-of-character tenacity) might even keep it in a fairly tidy state until Joe gets back. At which point all bets are likely off. Although I'll likely commence my decline down this slippery slope much sooner. (Tomorrow?)
In my defense, I think, is the fact that I left some things untouched. Mainly spaces that aren't mine, like Joe's room and desk, but also the library/map room/art gallery, which seems doomed to disorder until we move in August. My original bedroom -- which currently functions as an auxiliary space/closet for me -- also went ignored today, though I did a good job of tidying up in there earlier in the week after I unpacked from my trip. The only thing that could've used was a vacuuming (though it could certainly stand a few coats of unleaded paint), but as we lack a vacuum, it's destined to have a dirty carpet in perpetuity.
I also gained a greater appreciation for how difficult it is to actually keep a place clean. No doubt it would've been easier 1) had we done a better job of regularly cleaning instead of just letting the mess and dirt snowball and 2) had I had better supplies, like a bucket for the mop, instead of using the bathtub, and a dustpan instead of a piece of cardboard. I still managed to catch part of the Angels game on the tube, and I even sat down to watch Game 3 of the Stanley Cup finals in its entirety. But I failed miserably in my more academic or erudite endeavors, like finishing the book I'm reading, studying Czech, revising an article for publication or working on my art.
Hopefully in the future this will inspire and encourage me to not let things fall into such a state of disrepair. Ordinarily I don't think that'd be a problem, but having an apartment that has an impending date with a wrecking ball really undermines any sense of urgency to keep the place more than minimally maintained. Still, who knew being industrious was such hard work?
posted by Alexander Dubcek | 00:37
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