THE MISSING GENE

                                                    Eileen Cichello                    

 

It's got to be genetic, this talent for homemaking and cleaning.  You have it or you don't.  Unfortunately, I don't.  My mother didn't. 

I spent the first 20 years of our marriage feeling guilty about my lack of housecleaning initiative but I excused myself because of being in the throes of raising seven kids.  The kids are long gone and nothing's changed.  It's not that I decide I'm NOT going to clean.  It's just that it's the thing that doesn't get done, that I'm unaware of until someone is coming. Then I look around and say, "………….."  Well, never mind what I say.  It's as if I suddenly see how things are and I'm dismayed.  I've made all sorts of resolutions…well, actually I've stopped doing that, since it didn't change anything.  I really enjoy being in an attractive, tidy place and I keep waiting for the cleaning fairy to come take care of things.

I did try when the kids were young.  I'd make a valiant effort every spring to wash and dust and vacuum every surface in the house.  I'd turn mattresses and wash curtains and blankets.  No small task in a house this size.  What would happen when I was doing all this is that I would notice all the things that needed to be fixed or changed in the house.  My husband Sam couldn't understand why I couldn't just clean and end it there.  Heated words might be exchanged.  At some point, I gave up spring cleaning.

Perhaps an omen of things to come, back when I was just out of college and working as a school nurse teacher, I had a room in this elderly woman's house.  I remember my landlady saying to me, "You know, you are a very nice person and I really like you…but your room is the messiest I've ever seen."  Like she was surprised that someone so messy could also be nice!

Improving my house cleaning has been on many of my New Year's Resolutions Lists, when I still made New Year's resolutions.  Many's the time I've sat myself down and given myself a serious, "Now look here, Eileen, this has GOT to change" talk on this subject.

I have a friend who still titters about the time years ago when she dropped in to find me wielding a vacuum cleaner under couch cushions with one hand while holding a book in the other hand.  The name of the book was NOBODY SAID YOU HAD TO EAT OFF THE FLOOR and its premise was that you could keep your house very clean and still have a life.  I was trying to follow the author's directions as I was doing the work. I can't remember if I ever finished the book.  If I did, the information was not retained.

I have another friend who says, "I'd rather go without groceries than go without my cleaning lady."  I'll buy that!  But I tell myself, "There's no justification for paying someone to do your cleaning.  You're not working.  You're not even doing a lot of writing.  You really can't afford it.  So buckle down."

The latest inspiration was "Why not pay myself what I would pay someone else to clean?"  I never got to pay myself because the cleaning didn't happen.

As I said before, it's not like I set out deliberately NOT to clean.  It's just that everything, and I mean everything, on my to-do list gets done before the cleaning items.  

I really admire people who keep their house in good order, who have the Martha Stewart finishing touches in each room, much like the woman who wears just the right accessories with all her outfits.  I think it's a gift, like writing ability, athletic ability, singing ability or brainpower.  I don't have it for either cleaning or for accessories.  I've tried scarves and other finishing touches and end up looking like someone was trying to strangle me.  I refuse to draw blood so I can wear pretty earrings and consequently end up with the clamp kind.  They pinch and are usually off my ears and in my pocketbook long before it's time to go home.

My sister in law (You may have heard me mention her before, the world class shopper lady) keeps an immaculate house.  Any floor surface in her house, including cellar and attic, is probably cleaner than my kitchen counters.  Don't get the wrong impression…she's not one of those people who whisks the ashtray out from under you as soon as you butt out your cigarette.  In fact, she's one of the few people I know who offer you an ashtray today.  In her house, you feel at home and welcome.

What's the solution to this ongoing dilemma?  I'm hoping to write a best selling novel or win the lottery any day now.  Then this whole thing becomes a non-issue.  I'll pay someone who loves to clean. Believe it or not, there ARE people who do.