Darkschunt 
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Joys of House Cleaning and 'Particular' Housemates.
The other day, my housemate tried to put it to me in the nicest - and which came off as most annoying - terms that she is a very particular person when it comes to the bathroom and in short, my cleaning is not up to standards with her, um, standards. We all take turns cleaning the house and bathroom each week and my turn was this week. She didn't pick a good day to explain this to me either because I had come home from one of the crappiest days of my life and was in no mood to hear things about bathrooms.
Now, I will happily admit I am a slob. I often have much more better things to do than housework and I can usually live happily in a mess. Now, though I am a much tidier person than I was in high school (room was always in a disaster zone, anyone prone to asthma should not walk in there, Mom was always in distress over it as she is a neat freak). Thanks to the joys of independent living, I do my best to keep my room in relatively good shape. Now that my new rented room is tinier than Marlene's kitchen in her 50-square-feet city apartment, I am a master of minimal-space interior decorating and am forced to keep things neat due to tiny space and a beige carpet that shows every speck of dust that falls on it. Not to mention that my new landlords are clean freaks as well. Well, the girl-half anyway. I don't think I fall into slob category anymore and the unfair bit was that I have been doing my fair share of the housework and didn't really appreciate what my housemate was trying to tell me. Besides, she (or the other one, I don't know) doesn't really clean the mirror and the sink counter properly when it's her turn and one of them has been leaving icky little hairs in the shower which are really gross, all of which I have not said one word because I am, in a word, tolerant, and in seven words, not a very 'particular' sort of person.
Well, no matter. She wants clean? I'll give her clean. Last night, I grabbed three different kinds of chemicals, two used toothbrushes, a rag (which later turned out to be another housemate's face cloth, which happened to be hanging on the same rack as the correct rag and looking kind of icky and like a rag itself. Oops. Note: must buy her new face cloth) and a sponge and set to work scrubbing down every tile and every grout line in the bathroom and toilet. I think I nearly died from chemical inhalation. (Note: must also buy rubber gloves). Then I mopped everything down with a fourth chemical. The floors are so clean now that I nearly slipped on them this morning. If she tells me they're still not clean, I might - I don't know, throw all four of those chemicals in her face or something.
The other day, my housemate tried to put it to me in the nicest - and which came off as most annoying - terms that she is a very particular person when it comes to the bathroom and in short, my cleaning is not up to standards with her, um, standards. We all take turns cleaning the house and bathroom each week and my turn was this week. She didn't pick a good day to explain this to me either because I had come home from one of the crappiest days of my life and was in no mood to hear things about bathrooms.
Now, I will happily admit I am a slob. I often have much more better things to do than housework and I can usually live happily in a mess. Now, though I am a much tidier person than I was in high school (room was always in a disaster zone, anyone prone to asthma should not walk in there, Mom was always in distress over it as she is a neat freak). Thanks to the joys of independent living, I do my best to keep my room in relatively good shape. Now that my new rented room is tinier than Marlene's kitchen in her 50-square-feet city apartment, I am a master of minimal-space interior decorating and am forced to keep things neat due to tiny space and a beige carpet that shows every speck of dust that falls on it. Not to mention that my new landlords are clean freaks as well. Well, the girl-half anyway. I don't think I fall into slob category anymore and the unfair bit was that I have been doing my fair share of the housework and didn't really appreciate what my housemate was trying to tell me. Besides, she (or the other one, I don't know) doesn't really clean the mirror and the sink counter properly when it's her turn and one of them has been leaving icky little hairs in the shower which are really gross, all of which I have not said one word because I am, in a word, tolerant, and in seven words, not a very 'particular' sort of person.
Well, no matter. She wants clean? I'll give her clean. Last night, I grabbed three different kinds of chemicals, two used toothbrushes, a rag (which later turned out to be another housemate's face cloth, which happened to be hanging on the same rack as the correct rag and looking kind of icky and like a rag itself. Oops. Note: must buy her new face cloth) and a sponge and set to work scrubbing down every tile and every grout line in the bathroom and toilet. I think I nearly died from chemical inhalation. (Note: must also buy rubber gloves). Then I mopped everything down with a fourth chemical. The floors are so clean now that I nearly slipped on them this morning. If she tells me they're still not clean, I might - I don't know, throw all four of those chemicals in her face or something.
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