Saturday, May 04, 2013

My kingdom for a house cleaner.

Dear House,
I know it's been quite some time since we were up close and personal with the window cleaner, the broom, and sundry other dirt thingies and unless I win Tattslotto it's going to be a lot longer.
You could have warned me about the double curtains in the bedroom. They still looked good from my side albeit a lovely silvery grey instead of the shiny white they were the first time I put them up, unfortunately from the other side of the window, I saw shreds and not from the cat.
Yes, I know I promised the bedroom that first thing in the morning I would wash the good bits and remove the shreds but that was before I set fire to the frying pan and forgot the uncooked porridge in the microwave because the cat was hungry and gnawing on my foot and the back door needed to be open because he nearly went through the glass after the bird and gawd before I knew it, 10 o'clock and I hadn't even take the BGL for the morning or remembered that I was having porridge and didn't even need the pan on.
I was on my way to the curtains when the Avon lady called.  
I was on my way again when I decided to look through the catalogue in the minute of sunlight that was all we were going to get today.
Then it was lunch and I hadn't read the news online and the cat spotted my collection of bird feathers and wondered why he was racing around outside when he could play inside. So from the eyes in the back of my head where the front ones were reading I knew he'd jumped on the writing desk (as opposed to the computer table) and was making off with my best one and dropping the load on the desk to the floor.
By now I could really hear you screaming dear bedroom and I determined to do what was needed.  What was needed was an 18 year old, approximately 6 foot 4 inches who could climb a ladder without a myocardial infarction. Someone who could move a curtain rod, get the dreamcatcher down without the cat getting those feathers and wouldn't fall off the bed when the knees went.
My equipment of ladder, small broom, walking stick, pick-up stick were all needed. When did my knees get so wobbly standing on the bed? And the dust and the dirt. Just how long has it been dear House? Back to the kitchen for the hand vac.  Use pick up stick for picking up tissues from behind the bed. Before taking down the curtains I had to undo the fairy lights from the bed head otherwise they end up in the curtain.  Back to the sewing room for the scissors.  Finally the ladder, good wide steps but bending the knee to get on the bed was a cruncher.  Walking sticker unhooks the curtain rod and the curtains come off in a cloud of what could have been concrete mix it was so thick.  No wonder I've been wheezing like a 80 a day smoker.  
Sit down while the washing machine is on and pray this side of the curtain doesn't disintegrate in the water.  So far so good, umpteen metres still intact.  Back up the ladder, wobble wobble, damn where's me balance gone and start re-threading back on the rod.  Thread, thread, wobble, nearly fall, repeat until all curtain is threaded and back on hooks.  Slip the rod over the central hook.
Down the ladder and use the pick-up stick to even up the gathers, gathers are stuck, of course they are, you idiot, they're stuck on the central hook.  Walking stick takes the rod off the hook now the gathers are even and lordy the room is bright without the shredded backing.
It shows up the chandelier which wouldn't have looked out of place with the Addams Family.
By this time I'm lying on the bed, looking at the filth that has fallen on the lampshade and finally deciding that I must sparkle up the chandelier while the glass cleaner is in the same room as the ladder.
Oh crap, the ladder again.  Oh crap, the light globes are hot, because the lights are on, don't get any wet stuff near them, never mind the 3rd degree burns just sparkle the drops and get down the ladder.
So one promise kept, dear house, shame about the clothes still laying about and the jewellery not put in boxes and the bags not put back in the wardrobe and don't whinge about the window not being washed, without the shredded backing I'll need the insulation.  And I'll be sleeping in dirt tonight if I don't find the energy to change the sheets.
When I am Prime Minister, all crocks over pension age will be given their own cleaner and that will take care of the boat people. I'm surprised they haven't thought of that already.

6 comments:

River said...

I'm not 6ft 4in nor am I 18, but my original offer still stands.
I think your final paragraph has great merit.

Brian Hughes said...

I'm a great believer in the Miss Haversham method of house cleaning. (i.e. Leave the curtains closed for forty-odd years until the house catches fire and nobody will ever know the difference.)

JahTeh said...

River, do you realize that you, Elephant's Child, Annie O'Dyne and myself wouldn't make a whole crock person. My task for today was to cut a branch off a tree, I'm still thinking about it.

MiLord, I am a devotee of the Haversham method but as it's now coming on to winter and the leaves are falling, all who pass the gate can see in through the shredded remains of curtain thanks to the cat.

River said...

You'll have to stitch a big old bedsheet to the remains of the shredded curtain,
a) to stop people seeing in,
b) to give the cat something new to shred.

Andrew said...

There is tomorrow, you know. Or do you have plans?

JahTeh said...

River, I have brand new expensive voile curtains that just need a heading sewn and have for the last two years when I couldn't get to the machine.

Andrew, I was lucky. The nephew arrived just as I was heading down the drive to cut the branch. It would have taken me half an hour, took him 5 minutes and he cut it up and put it in the green bin. Another off the 'to do' list.