I’ve resisted hiring one for many years thinking it’s a pretentious way to cover up a lazy person. To be clear yes I am a lazy person but I’m not pretentious. The new place underwent some heavy renovation and even a month after it was finished (for now) the dust was killing me. Couldn’t breathe. Baseboards coated in sawdust. Windows covered in a layer of residue. And opening the windows and blasting the A/C just blew the stuff around yet never out the windows.
So I justified it was time. She came Wednesday for five hours. Here’s some unique scenarios.
- My need to pre-clean everything to demonstrate to the cleaning lady that I wasn’t a slacker.
- Being overly cordial through acts like paying for her parking at a garage then meeting her to lug her stuff.
- Sort of downplaying the importance of high-quality results with directions like do the best you can.
- Buying every cleaner for every situation possible. Grand total = $95
- Number 4 clarification: I did this fully knowing she was bringing her own supplies but wanted to appear to her that I was totally down with the process. Like look at me > I use Murphy’s Oil Soap. Ain’t I tres chic?
- Trying to be the cool “boss” by sparing her from doing laundry and making beds. I did it all the night before. I don’t know what I was thinking … maybe that we’d ditch the project and bond over lunch and a movie? I dunno.
- Two vacuums for two floors ready to go with empty bags and a fully charge. (cordless)
Her name was Fediliane which I dared not to pronounce. Lovely, well spoken and ready to get at it. She even volunteered to do the windows and that’s quite a let as the first floor windows are floor to ceiling and covered in filth. What a difference. The extra light. I found ear buds and loose change all over the place, along with a decomposed frozen pea.
But here was the thing I couldn’t stop myself from doing. I took the dog for a long, long walk to the park so as to not crowd her. When I came back, I admit I snooped around just to see what she had done and how well she did it. The results were all good, well except for some arbitrary polish streaks on the dining room table but I fixed that when she wasn’t looking. Now I know some people are hard core supervisors and that some even go out of their way to get sloppy about things reasoning oh the cleaning lady will take care of that tomorrow.
Fediliane did a bang up job and found stuff to address that I never would have thought to do. The floors were gleaming when she was finished. She dusted all the light bulbs inside a lamp as well as the chandelier bulbs with a dampened paper towel. But this was the mind blowing thing: she took the candles out of my Tiffany crystal candle holders and cleaned the inside of the insertion part. Not sure if that has a specific name. In the same spirit she soaked every glass hurricane lantern and I’ve got a few of those that I inherited from various family passings.
Not sure but I think she polished plant leaves with mayonnaise. Guess that’s a trick of the trade. Oh … she cleaned the oven and inside of the microwave. Even took out the broiling pan and rack and returned them to like-new condition. I never asked for these things to be done.
I gave Fediliane a five star rating and she gave me a five star rating too. I tipped her generously which prompted a quick response of so when do you want me back … two weeks? Of course to appear like I was down with the whole routine I agreed when in fact I was only intending to do a one time tackle of the renovation remnants. So we settled on the Monday before Thanksgiving. I’m having guests.
Now that I know how thorough she is, here’s my conundrum. Do I stay diligent maintaining everything or do I just lighten up and do that oh the maid will do it routine? Ain’t my style. Face it. I’m gonna have the cleanest and best smelling apartment on the twentieth floor. It ain’t cheap to get there but I can’t lose ground now. I’m trapped in a new spontaneous love affair with Fediliane. It’s ramping up my neurosis and draining my checking account but damn it all if gleaming floors and fresh scents don’t spell love.