There will come a day, about 20 years from now, when you will read in the paper of a horrible woman who goes totally postal and shoots off her husbands face. That woman will be me. I can see it coming already. I have warned my husband repeatedly, but he just doesn’t listen. Mostly because I threaten violence on all minor offenses to my husband, my cats, my puppy, my remote and my computer with no follow through whatsoever, and absolutely no fear from any of the aforementioned threatened. But I sound badass.
Okay, so I highly doubt I will ever hold a gun, let alone shoot one at my studmuffin. Back to the point. Sorta.
Here’s the thing: men don’t understand how to clean. I mean this in a general way and not in sexist way. But yes, I mean you. And my husband. And almost every man I know, with the exception of…Mr. Belvedere, and Tony Micelli. My only references are 1980’s sitcom characters. I’m sure there are many others, but I haven’t ever lived with any of them. Sigh……
Not all girls know how to clean. I admit that. But I do. It means that every once in a while, you need to wipe down the baseboards and windowsills. You need to not just take the bad food out of the fridge, you need to scrub and sanitize the shelves, too.
For me, it all comes down to the kitchen counters. You see, after years of snarky comments my husband has learned to wipe down the counters after he works on something. But what he doesn’t do is wipe down the backsplash, move the cookie jar and clean around that, too, or look up at the oven exhaust. So I’ll shuffle in and see the splatters on the cabinets, the sprinkles of salt or oil around the cookie jar, the burned drippings on the stovetop and clean. Again.
My mom worked for a cleaning company for a few years. My sister owns one. It’s in my blood. Now, I’m not compulsive or anything. (My insane hand sanitizer at school doesn’t count) I’ll leave dirty dishes in the sink for an afternoon, or leave the vacuuming til the weekend or something. But I have to clean up after my husband’s cleaning every fricking day. “You didn’t clean the counters!” is met with “Yes I did!”
But that is boy cleaning. I had many roomates, mostly male. They all boy-cleaned. Clean the surface, not the depths. Once my man said he cleaned the bathroom, I went in and saw a slick of windex all over everything. Soaking wet. In his mind, it was sanitized and therefore clean. But that doesn’t clean off soapscum! Or calcium deposits! Or hair!
Please don’t cut corners, I’ve asked a million times in a million ways, and have cleaned up after him a million times. One of these days it will be one extra clean up too many and I will go beserker on his ass. And you will read it in the paper, sagely nod your head in understanding, and go scrub the toilet.