The Laparoscopic Cleaning Crew

I am one of those control freaky types who like to have everything in my house it its own place at all times, unless it is actually in use. A dear friend, who has known me since 1992, says I have a touch of OCD. I see it not as a mild mental illness, but as an advantage in this disordered world. However, the DH doesn’t have it, and as a result he has his own thoughts on neatness and order, as well as that that “man” way of organizing. (You know, that MAN way… But Sweetie, I did help clean the house! I re-inflated the basketballs!) I am not suggesting he has no right to think in his own way, just that he cannot clutter up the house and not have a shrieking Harpy on his case to pick up his pajamas from the bathroom floor and put away a few of the seven pairs of shoes next to the front door.

Example: My DH sat down to write the thank you notes for the twins first birthday party, right after breakfast. I had gone upstairs to nurse one baby to sleep; he had the other with him in the kitchen. When the upstairs baby was asleep, I went to get the other one, put him to sleep as well. There was my DH, in the kitche, busy writing the thank you notes, spread out on the table, with the babies’ toys all over the place, the waffle iron still on the counter, the milk jug sitting out and the butter gently melting next to him. I asked if he couldn’t have tidied up a bit before he started on the notes. He replied since I had asked him to start the notes, but had not asked him to tidy up, he thought the notes were priority. While that is all neat and great, I couldn’t see why the tidying of the kitchen did not naturally come first. How could he concentrate on jotting charming and witty comments on the thank you notes I had printed from the computer with the butter oozing out of its paper onto the table beside him? That is how we think differently.

We had a professional organizer come to the twin mothers club to which I belong. (The meetings are one of my twice-monthly outings.) It started with everyone telling their own organizing challenges. I told the story of how, when I had first moved to England in the early 1990’s, my brother and sister decided to move all my things into the detached garage, to make more room in the house. A few months later, the garage burned to the ground.

I did not share this part: the sole reason there was a fire was because the 14 year old daughter of my parent’s neighbor, who had just had a row with her boyfriend, got drunk and went on a tear, using a can of gasoline to light fire to several neighborhood garages in an juvenile arsonist rage. The most rankling part of this was not that I lost all my “valuable” stuff, but that she only knew my parents’ garage was there was because her father showed her where it was years ago, when he helped her trespass. It’s like this: my parent’s house is set a good half mile back from the road, and the garages were even further back. There is a pond next to these garages, and I remember seeing this porky little girl, her fat sibling, and her fatter father crossing the field between the next-door neighbors and my parents’ driveway to refresh themselves in this pond. Number one, the land they were walking on and the pond are private property; number two, they never asked my parents’ permission to go swimming in their pond; and number three, they would give the then 14 year old me dirty looks as they marched across our grass to dip their rolls in our pond. This 14 year-old felon knew the garages existed only because her Daddy had taken her back there as a tot. And my folks never got to press charges for trespassing or arson or anything because, GET THIS, her overweight Daddy is Chief of Police. Arrrrgghhhh!!!!)

Anyway, I lost everything I owned, except what I had with me, in that fire. When I told this to the Club, I made sure to tell how I felt just plain old relieved that I no longer had the detritus of my adolescence to cart around with me. Even today my DH has things at his parents’ house, and I am NOT having a bunch of old rubbish in MY house. Sorry! I feel you should cull your possessions on a regular basis, keeping only the lovely and useful, the clothing that fits, and the sentimentally valuable too, of course. I do this constantly, therefore, I did not have any organizing challenges to share, except the usual toys all over the place and two babies have a lot of clothes, blah, blah, etc. It’s only the DH himself. He’s not a bad organizational challenge at all, he does keep up with the filing, and the laundry, but he tends to accumulate bits and pieces in his car. Why does he drive those nuts and bolts and tools and business manuals and old sweatshirts and cans of chain saw lubricant around with him? (I suppose it’ll all come in handy if he’s waiting somewhere and is desperate for reading material, then suddenly gets chilly, wants to grease up a chain saw and tighten up a few loose screws…maybe he could start with the ones in my head.)

Owing to this love of organization and a fetish for tidying up, I had a difficult time in settling with someone to help clean the house. Naturally, she had to be capable and a neat freak, but also had to be able to clean in a non-invasive manner. I can’t have all my things rearranged in someone else’s idea of order. I need to know my stuff is where I left it. The first few weeks after the boys burst onto the scene, I had four different helpers come in to be tried out. Only one is still here. She is definitely a tidy person on her own; the cleaning supply cabinet is organized by size and product use. She has a routine where she does the same things in the same sequence each time she comes, which makes it easy for me to keep out of her way. She also has a great way with the twins; if they are in their chairs feeding when she arrives they practically fall out of them in an attempt to reach her to be picked up. She never complains about the babies being in her way, you know how some people can complain in that sigh/tight smile/pointed glance way of complaining. No, she’s great. She has the ability to clean without disturbing my order. I call her the Laparoscopic Cleaner.

I should start a company that’ll put those Merry Maids right outta business. I’ll call it the Laparoscopic Cleaning Crew and promise minimally invasive house cleaning to the obsessive compulsive and hyper-organized homeowner who needs someone to help out, but doesn’t trust anyone to do it correctly. Can you imagine! The ads can read:

Do you need a clean, neat home, but don’t have the time to mop floors yourself?
Are you afraid of having a housekeeper come in because

no one can do it like you can?

Do you have a particular order and system for everything and are afraid

a stranger in your midst would disorganize your home?
Do you wish you could find a minimally invasive someone

to clean your home, without upsetting it?

Well, we are here for you! The Laparoscopic Cleaning Crew will come in, do your cleaning, and leave our home exactly like you left it, only much fresher, much sweeter and much, much cleaner! The only thing that’ll be out of place will be the dust bunnies!
Call today!!!

Naturally, I would charge a fortune.