I need an espresso to wake up properly. Needed three before I put on the gym clothes (yup, them gym clothes) to tackle the lego house this morning. Times a quick tidy will do and times when you can spot the muck out of the corner of your eye at night on the glass of wine and know … it’s time.
D-day for domestic crap. Heavy duty cleaning required. For a woman who likes a plan:
- Armageddon oven. Ovens are places where food likes to be cremated and lie there. Cremation station. The odd wipe and dab will do but every now and then, its time to wrestle with the metal and God knows, this is a job for Bear Grylis. Ever prepared, did the toxic spray last night. Nearly f …king killed me, the fumes, lordy, the fumes. Near death by oven cleaner.
- Broom cupboard and bin. If left non-sterile, the future home of little mice. Must avoid mice. Attacked by ironing board, found an ocean of plastic bags (I will use one day) and compartmentalised – one for rubbish, one for re-cycling and one for those pretty used Nespresso caps.
- Descaling kettle and Nespresso machine. Tea tastes like descaling medicine and Nespresso now confused as to descaling or coffee. Small nespresso cup overflowing on the wrong cycle. Quadruple espresso.
- Stove and surrounds. Hate trying to clean around the fiddly bits. Can think of a hundred ways would rather fiddle than break nails on gas outlets. The shine as promised from granite shine, does not shine, but streaks, like my highlights. Over it.
- Fridge. I have a Bridget Jones fridge. Dead cheese, withered celery and six bottles of wine. Rather easy to clean. Amazing how the fridge door looks like a murder scene, so many fingerprints, all the time.
- Washing machine and dishwasher. There is gunk there that would make a slimy pond look lovely enough to dip in. Soap build-up. Wish my confidence had so much build up. Pity no-one will see the shiny insides of my machine, but I know.
- Top of cupboards. Well, who knew dust would congeal to state of cement?
- Floors. I have a fixations with fluff and dust. London specials both. Brush, mop and on the knees to wipe clean and get into those little crevices – I hate my life.
Too early for wine.
Serious workout happening here. Luckily I have my gym clothes on. Need to tone the coffee, add some froth.
- Drawers and shelves. Treasure finds. Magazines dating back to the Millenium (not quite), expired invitations and that every handy roll of string and elastic bands. I have never needed the string or elastic bands, but just in case. Like the instruction manuals from equipment long dead. Like the pretty blue ceramic pots which once housed my favourite yogurt and I cannot throw away. Like just about everything we keep, for one day, which never comes.
- Bathroom. Now this I clean all the time. All the time, except that shitty hard water that mocks me after every shower – wipe as you will, I will return. Hate hard water.
- Shampooing of hair brushes, wiping the necks of toothpaste, scrubbing the loo. Sorting make-up worn past sell by date, arranged earbuds, make up brushes, tossed empty conditioner vessels and added to the death of the planet with enough disinfectant down the drains. In fact, there is now enough cleaning liquids in my home to give me a total high. Candles to kill the smell.
Under the beds, re-packing of cupboards, tossing clothes (for one day you know) and sorted out the washing. Is there anything else, if so, the weak, massively palpitating heart will not, I fear, survive more today.
Note: Apart from the obvious workout, clean, shiny home and frequent rage, cleaning on this level is great for thinking. You can vent all your frustrations, plan, swishy to the music and clear the head at the same time. I now have a vacant brain, right arm muscle improvement and painful knees, but I am done.
Wine O’ Clock!
Images pintrest, housebeautiful