Tag Archives: cleaning

Fooling myself…

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After a day of working in the yard, doing laundry, running errands, and making a passing effort at starting dinner, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that we’ve entered that time of year where some activities are going to have to get thrown over the side. I’ve talked before about some of the unique challenges of being a one man show, but the simple fact is if there isn’t enough time to get to everything, the stuff I don’t particularly like doing is going to be put off indefinitely – I’m looking at you here vacuuming, mopping, and dusting. Frankly, I never much liked you anyway and since you’re in head-to-head competition with working in the yard, you never really stood a chance.

It’s one of those times I wish I wasn’t quite so OCD about things being “just so,” but I’ve pretty much given up on ever letting things slide with being good enough. So what’s really going to happen for the next five months is a cycle of ignoring the interior dust and dirt until I get twitchy, launching an all-day cleaning binge about once a month, and repeating as necessary until the grass stops growing in the fall. Sure, I could hire it out… but then I have to deal with the awkwardness of having strange people wandering around in the house. I’m sure you can guess how anxious I am for that to happen. So in the spirit of spring, here I sit trying my best to ignore every rug that needs vacuumed, every stray bit of dust and dog hair, and don’t even get me started on the wood floors that need mopped.

OK, so I could have probably spot cleaned the kitchen in the time it took me to tap this out, but let’s face it, writing isn’t one of those things that I’m very likely to give up in favor of cleaning now is it?

Morning…

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I try to block off weekend mornings to sit down and really focus on writing. It’s pretty much the only time of the week when I can get three or four hours uninterrupted to focus on a section that’s complicated or requires a lot of detail. Usually I can manage a couple of thousand words a day on Saturday and Sunday. Through the week, I’m lucky if I can squeeze in 500 somewhere between getting home from work, making dinner, and getting to bed at something like a reasonable hour. So yeah, I put a premium on my weekends not because I’m running off to some exciting locale, but because it’s when I feel like I’m doing my best work. In college, I did my best work in the dead of night. That’s when the words flowed best. Now that I’ve conditioned myself into a morning person, I guess the sweet spot has shifted too. That’s really not the point, though.

Today is Saturday and what I really want to be doing is sitting here taking a stab at the next chapter. Unfortunately, what I’m really doing is sitting here paying bills, cleaning up the balls of dirt, dust, and dog hair that are large enough to qualify as a third dog, and installing a new toilet seat (don’t ask). Today is pretty much catching up on all the stuff a normal person would have kept up with during the week. Me, not so much. I’m determined to pretend that I have a second full time career as a writer… and time slips away accordingly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the basement and rummage around for a crescent wrench. Either this bolt’s coming off or the whole damned thing will shatter. Maybe I should go ahead and turn the water off while I’m down there.

If I don’t flood the house in the next hour and I can manage to get the grass cut in a reasonable amount of time, maybe, just maybe, I can salvage some quality time to write this afternoon… Just in time to get interrupted by dinner. Lord, no wonder people never finish writing their great American novel.

Office food…

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The top dog around here wandered into our office this afternoon and announced that he had descended from the 5th floor because he’d heard that we had pizza. Not only did we not have pizza, but we also didn’t have a clue what would make him think we did. As it turns out, the pizza was for an office on the other side of the building, but hey sir, it was nice seeing you. Realistically, I can understand his confusion. Our office eats. A lot. There’s always a pie or a cake or, strangely, a ham sitting in a conference room somewhere. I’ve never worked in an office that wasn’t run by some arm of the government, so I have no idea if it’s this way everywhere. For purposes of discussion, I’m going to assume that it is.

Maybe it’s just my own proclivity, but most of office food makes me nervous. I’m ok with the bagels and donuts that come from the nice shop down the street. It’s the stuff that people bring in from home that worries me. I mean how well do you really know that cranky old battleax that sits down the hall? Want to tell me the last time her kitchen counters got a good scrub? How many cats did she say she had again? You get the point. Let’s be brutally honest here, there’s a pretty good chance your coworkers can’t even make a good cup of coffee. I can’t think of any legitimately good reason I’d trust most of them to make lunch.

Sure, you say, but most restaurant kitchens are filthy too. But what I have with the restaurant that I don’t have with my coworkers is plausible deniability. Plausible deniability and a certificate from some local government inspector that says yeah it’s dirty, but not dirty enough to kill you. Probably. But come on, you’ve met the people you work with. What are the chances they’re not going to try to kill you?

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Under Construction…

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We are quite literally “under” construction. The office suite the floor above us is, as far as I can tell, undergoing some type of renovation that requires the repeated dropping of bowling balls onto the bare concrete slab. This activity has the unpleasant side effect of making it sound like the entire second floor could become the first floor at any moment. It’s not bad, as long as you don’t find loud, hollow thumping and continual rending of metal distracting or annoying in any way. Other than that, it’s practically unnoticeable.

I’m probably an idealist, but I’ve always thought this kind of work would be best done outside of “core business hours.” You know, when the vast majority of employees are not making their limited effort at being productive for the day. It’s sort of the same way I look at day-time janitorial service. Sure, having my cube vacuumed is nice and all, but it’s awfully distracting when I’m sitting in it making a phone call or actually trying to get something done. In television shows, the cleaning crews always come at night. Maybe that happens in the executive suite, but for the drones, everyone seems bent on showing up at the most inopportune time.

Editorial Note: This part of a continuing series of posts previously available on a now defunct website. They are appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Sometimes…

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The worst part about blogging, aside from the unforgiving bouts of writers block, is the inevitable moments when there are a lot of things banging around between the ears, but not one that’s quite ready to be rereleased out into the blogosphere on it’s own. Nothing earth shattering – no news on the hiring freeze, no real leads yet outside DoD, but the faintest flicker of hope that after there’s an actual budget things might start moving again – though there will be no breath holding on that coming true.

Outside of that, it’s spring in West Tennessee. I’m ignoring house cleaning in favor of yard work, and that’s generally a good thing except for the coating of dust, dog hair, and pollen that seems to be collecting on everything inside. Maybe I’ll get around to dealing with that at some point. Or better yet, maybe I’ll get around to hiring a cleaning to come in and give the place a once over from time to time.

Not much of a post, right? Stream of consciousness is fun. Maybe next time I’ll be back to ranting and raving

Mr. Clean…

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I think it’s great that we have a contractor that handles the building’s janitorial services – cleaning restrooms, emptying trash, buffing the hallways. But I don’t understand why all of those things need to happen during normal business hours. Ever tried having a phone conversation when 2 industrial strength vacuum cleaners were running in your 40×40 foot section of cubicle farm? I don’t recommend it.

And while I’m on the topic of office cleanliness I’d happily trade one round of vacuuming a week for the occasional pass of a swiffer over the top of the cubicle walls. As a small test, I’ve had my name written in the dust on top of a file cabinet since Christmas. Seriously. I occasionally have to go back and go over it again it so the new dust doesn’t fill it in. I understand that it’s an office and not an operating room, but some attention to the little things would go a long way.

Editorial Note: This is part of a continuing series of previously unattributed posts appearing on http://www.jeffreytharp.com for the first time. This post has been time stamped to correspond to its original publication date.

Prep work…

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There are some who would call me a bit of a neat freak. It’s a habit that with the exception of my brief residence in a run-down apartment on Center Street in Frostburg, I’ve had all my life as far as I can remember. It’s probably a mild form of OCD, but it works for me. The real reason for the pull out the stops cleaning and straightening extravaganza this weekend is the impending visit from my mother… Who is probably the root cause of my neatnik tendencies. Seriously, the lady keeps a house straight like nobody’s business. In an effort to keep her from spending the entire visit cleaning, I’ve kicked it into overdrive this weekend. The living room didn’t get dusted, though, and there’ll probably be hell to pay for that, but overall the place looks to be in good shape and is probably cleaner than it’s been since the last time she was here.

Of course the dining room that is now home to two ridiculously large wire dog crates (and no dining room table) will probably get a look or two. It’s hard to believe that with me and two dogs living here, a three bedroom house doesn’t seem to have enough room… In a pinch I guess I could forgo the home office, but other than the kitchen, it’s probably the room that gets the most use.

I suppose that’s my round about way of saying that after all the prep work my mom will be visiting for the week… I’m sure you can expect a story or two as two seriously hard-headed people live once more under one roof and as she works through first time jitters of flying without someone else along with her. Do you suppose it’s inappropriate to through out the “my house, my rules” line at least once? But seriously, I don’t make it home nearly as often as I’d like to… so sometimes it’s nice when home comes to me.

Dyson…

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I never in my worst nightmares thought I could get all hot and bothered by cleaning equipment, but I picked up a Dyson vacuum at Target this morning… and oh my frigging god. I had no idea there was so much disgusting stuff in my carpet. I generally think of myself as a meticulous cleaner, so I was actually a little disturbed at the amount of stuff this thing picked up. I filled the canister just going over the living room. And then I filled it again. Twice. My old vacuum was no slouch, but this one is clearly making an impression.

I know it’ll wear off in time, but right now, I’m totally hot for this vacuum.