I am cleaning out the tub of the woman I work for in the mornings, going over any spots I see, checking for stains, scrutinizing it carefully for any marks I may have forgotten? I rub my hand along the porcelain; is it clean? Smooth? No grains of cleanser leftover? Anything forgotten? Is that just a shadow I'm seeing from the beige tiles or a stain?
My own tub I do 1,2,3. Chuck in some cleanser, scrub it down, a quick glance and then leave--on to something else.
I go to someone else, the work harder; I move furniture around, something I don't do but a couple times a year in my own home, take off books from the shelves, something I do rarely at home. And I'm inspired to do more, do it better, to please the owners of the house, so that they are left with something beautiful and clean. I work as hard and as well as I can to make the place nice for them, and when I turn around and things are nicer than before, I feel pleased. I also worry as I leave; did I do everything? Did I forget anything?
My own home would scare away the Adams family. Okay, it isn't that bad, but it is close. You should have seen the living room before I tackled it last night!
The more attention I pay to the houses I'm cleaning, the less I give my house.
The shoemakers children.
Why is my home short-changed? Is it just exhaustion? Boredom? Lack of inspiration in the form of money? Lack of appreciation? I don't think it is the money, because 1) were I working for free on someone's house, doing it as a gift, I would work as hard and 2)when I arrive at someone's house to clean I WANT to clean. I want the work done as nice as possible. Even if my clients wouldn't notice something if it were left undone, I still do the work. For instance, in my afternoon work I was careful to clean the legs of the floor fan.
As I was leaving my afternoon work the woman told me how much she appreciated what I was doing; I answered truthfully that I was happy to do it.
Is it simply a matter of appreciation?
I wish I knew; in some ways it is as if the care I should lavish on my home is lavished on the homes of others; as if I had a house-care meter inside me. When all the little mops and buckets were empty it meant my cleaning energy was depleted and I can't do more.
I really wish I knew; my home deserves more respect than I have been giving it.
Posted by Rachel Ann at September 3, 2004 08:59 AMOne of the women I work with complains of the same thing. Her husband is a plumber. I have known her for 12 years and she only has one working bathroom. The other one has never been fixed.Her husband is so busy running when someone else calls that he never hears the calls of his family.Well, he hears them but never has time to fix the second bathroom.
That's just the way it goes I guess.