A Clean Sweep

I’ve heard of a clean sweep, spring cleaning, and cleaning house, but this was a little crazy.

“John, I know you told me to dress casually for New Year’s but I thought you were joking when you told me to bring an apron.”

John replied, “It’s a good thing I keep extras on hand” as he opened a pristine drawer in the kitchen and handed me an interesting apron of Michelangelo’s David. “I picked it up in Florence last year. I would say that it looks good on you but, I think it might cause some confusion later.” At least I looked well endowed.

When I first met John, I knew he was a little different. At lunch, he would re-set the table flatware, reorganize the salt and pepper shakers, and straighten the table cloth. I just chalked it up to his job as an interior designer. “Why would you put those two together?” he would expound constantly, whether it was my clothes or the pillows on my sofa. But afterwards he’d just shrug his shoulders and smile. I think he just enjoyed saying it.

This was our first holiday together. I spent Christmas with my family in Connecticut and he spent it with his friends in Manhattan. I was so excited when he invited me for New Year’s Eve. Of course, I was thinking a party with champagne and dressy clothes and people. So far I was 0 for 3.

“OK, we’ll start in the kitchen,” he said pointing me towards a broom and dustpan. He had the spray bottle and sponge. “I’ll do the counters while you sweep up.” After a deep sigh I came to the realization we were actually going to spend New Year’s Eve cleaning his apartment. Who does that on New Year’s Eve?

“John, hold on. Are we seriously going to clean all night?”

“Of course not,” John laughed. “We have to be done by midnight. Then we can celebrate and toast the new year in right. Let’s get going, we’re on a deadline.”

Alrighty then, I figured the quicker I got the sweeping done, the sooner we would move on to the champagne. Luckily the kitchens in Manhattan are very tiny. Since it seemed like a race, I yelled “Done!”

“Good job. Now you can mop,” he said pulling the mop out of the small utility closet. After handing me the pink spray bottle I realized all the bottles were color-coded. The mop was pink; the spray bottle was pink. His sponge was blue; his spray bottle was blue.

“Oh this is cute, color-coded bottles,” I chuckled.

“Of course, you don’t want to confuse the antiseptic counter cleaner with the tile floor cleaner,” shaking his head with this perplexed look.

With the mopping done, I put the mop and spray bottle away. He was finally done the counters and came behind me to put the spray bottles in their proper places and the mop in the back left corner. He watched for a minute to ensure it wouldn’t fall.

“Now, onto the bedroom,” he ordered.

Wow, all we had to do was clean the kitchen and, into the bedroom. Or so I thought. Yes, we were going in the bedroom but apparently to clean. As he pulled the sheets off, he handed me the clean sheets.

“Put these on but make sure the flat sheet has the military corners and it is snugged in all the way to the pillows.”

“OK,” The only time I make my bed is once a week when the laundry comes back. I hate making beds.

“Just… Just… Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” he said shaking his head and motioning me away from the bed. Guess they’re all right; If you don’t want to do something, just do it really bad and someone will take over.