My parents have been doing some spring cleaning lately. And by spring cleaning, I mean my mom called me and said, “We have five boxes of your crap in the attic. Can we throw it out?” My crap being everything I’ve ever generated artistically or scholastically since first grade.
I can’t believe there are this many, actually.
I am looking for someone to give our house a good spring cleaning. Here’s a before shot:
Don’t get me wrong, Mr. B and I spend around hours every week cleaning our house. But as soon as it’s clean on Sundays, it magically starts to become dirty again, and thus the cycle restarts. We also haven’t deep-cleaned for months, meaning there are some corners where it’s possible the fifth dimension exists amongs the lush vegetation and spider webs. Our domovoi is probably angry.
When you add the fact that right now my MBA and the ebook have top after-work priority, and for Mr. B is working on two online classes, you get something extremely terrifying.
So, Mr. B and I are trying to hire someone to take care of it in a deep spring cleaning. The problem is that we are afraid of Russian cleaning ladies and even more afraid to hire an American one that we don’t know.
This is how our conversation about it went the other day.
Me: Maybe we should hire someone Russian? Don’t you know some family members that have cleaning ladies?
Mr. B: *pointed look* Yes, but do you really want that?
Me: What do you mean?
Mr. B: Cause they’re going to come by and sooner or later it’ll get back to us. “Oh, Vicki and Mr. B? THAT Vicki and Mr. B? Yeah, my aunt’s sister’s cousin’s brother’s niece cleaned their house last week, and let me tell you all about it.
Me: Good point.
Mr. B: Do you really want some Russian women you don’t know telling the Russian women you do know what’s inside of your house and what a disgrace it is?
Mr. B: *mimics older Russian woman in Russian* Oh, Zoyachka. Those young people, the way they live-I disapprove of everything. And let me tell you all about it.
So, we are still looking for a house cleaner. Preferably one that won’t murder us, or gossip about us. Although at this point, I don’t know which is worse.