For those of you who work a Mon-Fri schedule...I feel you! Today is the day I clean MY house. Mind you, I own 2 cats and a very active dog. Below is a great song to get you motivated into doing those chores! Hint: make a playlist of your favorite "cleaning" songs to get you in the mood. I have this really neat app on my HTC cell phone which allows me to use it as an MP3. I have more than 50 of my favorite songs. Music which is upbeat will get you pumped!
Still having trouble or feeling lazy? Start with the dishes. Finishing something small usually makes me want to keep going just to get it done already. Good luck! I'm off to cleaning my home. Comment below with your own tips, favorite tunes or anything that's on your mind!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Beginning
Today, the Green crew and I cleaned the very first house I cleaned on my very first day on the job. Seems about right that I begin telling you where it all started as I go through the same sequence with you.
This house, like all houses, will be given code names. This particular house will be the Woods House, simply because anything and everything is made of wood. We got cherry wood, mahogany, teak, Brazilian walnut, oak, maple, birch, beech, black walnut, ash, the list could go on and on. I think that in order for this house to have been built and furnished, an entire forest had to of been stripped of its wondrousness. It’s insane!
Since the very first day and thereafter that I’ve stepped foot inside the Woods’ residence I reluctantly feel the same: claustrophobic, stuffed and in desperate need of artificial light. The halls are narrow and stocked with wooden furniture blocking any arm and leg space, I already mentioned the darkness, hence the need for light, and the unbelievable amount of dust is what makes me despise cleaning this house. On a good day it takes our three-person crew two hours to clean the entire three-story-house. Oh, and did I mention the Woods own three cats? No? Now I did!
WALKTHROUGH:
We drive up the driveway (and I always let out a sigh of agony as we do) and meet up with an average size backyard. We enter from the back door and find two narrow passages: six steps will take us up and twenty will take us down.
Because we work like ants, in a very structured, assembly kind of way, we always begin upstairs inside the master bedroom and master bathroom. We work our way through the house until finally leaving the kitchen as a bitter end.
So up we go. Remember, we’re entering through the back door and climbing up the six, wooden steps. The first thing we see is the kitchen. We drop our equipment, grab what we need/use and head on up. Usually I dust, the crew-leader does floors and our third person (names later) does the 2 ½ bathrooms. Now, much like the video below, we clean every single room from top to bottom, make beds, throw out all of the garbage and then some.
Upstairs, the master bedroom is HUGE. And remember, everything is made of wood. There are two other bedrooms and an office with a small sitting area. I gotta hand it the Ms. Woods, some of the things she owns are pretty neat. She has some beautiful and tasteful art and historical ornaments. She even owns a late 1800s revolver (a gun)! It’s mounted up above her chimney in a very elegant and museum-like fashion.
I don’t mind dusting since I move quickly through the house and make my way to her kitchen. I’m careful with her “plants” (which are more like dust-filled twigs in vases) and I even enjoy her tabby stalking me through the enormous house.
By the time we get out of the house we’re exhausted, desperate for sunlight (The Woods don’t have a lot of electrical light, they have oil lamps and candles) and sneezing our way to the next assignment. We clean this house every thirty days so the amount of dust, cobwebs and everything dirty is incredible.
I recall Ms. Woods playing soft melodious tunes as we rummaged throughout her tree-like mansion but now the only thing we hear is the sound of our vacuum buzzing desperately about her steep home. I don't know what stopped her from leaving her radio on for us, but we move just as quickly.
This house may sound nice and just plain ugh' at certain times but the plain truth is that I feel no pleasure in cleaning it. In fact, I despise this house! Nothing personal, I just hate the difficulties it adds to our day. I think that if you begin the day with the most difficult task, it makes the rest of your day a lot easier, smoother and more relaxed. But the truth is that this house (and we do it at the beginning) is so treacherous that it complicates the pain in my back! And then it just morphs into the pain in my ass! Ha!
So there, the beginning to our beginning. And boy do I wish I could end that statement witht the word end
*pics not from the Woods' home, just great examples to express my words*
This house, like all houses, will be given code names. This particular house will be the Woods House, simply because anything and everything is made of wood. We got cherry wood, mahogany, teak, Brazilian walnut, oak, maple, birch, beech, black walnut, ash, the list could go on and on. I think that in order for this house to have been built and furnished, an entire forest had to of been stripped of its wondrousness. It’s insane!
Since the very first day and thereafter that I’ve stepped foot inside the Woods’ residence I reluctantly feel the same: claustrophobic, stuffed and in desperate need of artificial light. The halls are narrow and stocked with wooden furniture blocking any arm and leg space, I already mentioned the darkness, hence the need for light, and the unbelievable amount of dust is what makes me despise cleaning this house. On a good day it takes our three-person crew two hours to clean the entire three-story-house. Oh, and did I mention the Woods own three cats? No? Now I did!
WALKTHROUGH:
We drive up the driveway (and I always let out a sigh of agony as we do) and meet up with an average size backyard. We enter from the back door and find two narrow passages: six steps will take us up and twenty will take us down.
Because we work like ants, in a very structured, assembly kind of way, we always begin upstairs inside the master bedroom and master bathroom. We work our way through the house until finally leaving the kitchen as a bitter end.
So up we go. Remember, we’re entering through the back door and climbing up the six, wooden steps. The first thing we see is the kitchen. We drop our equipment, grab what we need/use and head on up. Usually I dust, the crew-leader does floors and our third person (names later) does the 2 ½ bathrooms. Now, much like the video below, we clean every single room from top to bottom, make beds, throw out all of the garbage and then some.
Upstairs, the master bedroom is HUGE. And remember, everything is made of wood. There are two other bedrooms and an office with a small sitting area. I gotta hand it the Ms. Woods, some of the things she owns are pretty neat. She has some beautiful and tasteful art and historical ornaments. She even owns a late 1800s revolver (a gun)! It’s mounted up above her chimney in a very elegant and museum-like fashion.
I don’t mind dusting since I move quickly through the house and make my way to her kitchen. I’m careful with her “plants” (which are more like dust-filled twigs in vases) and I even enjoy her tabby stalking me through the enormous house.
By the time we get out of the house we’re exhausted, desperate for sunlight (The Woods don’t have a lot of electrical light, they have oil lamps and candles) and sneezing our way to the next assignment. We clean this house every thirty days so the amount of dust, cobwebs and everything dirty is incredible.
I recall Ms. Woods playing soft melodious tunes as we rummaged throughout her tree-like mansion but now the only thing we hear is the sound of our vacuum buzzing desperately about her steep home. I don't know what stopped her from leaving her radio on for us, but we move just as quickly.
This house may sound nice and just plain ugh' at certain times but the plain truth is that I feel no pleasure in cleaning it. In fact, I despise this house! Nothing personal, I just hate the difficulties it adds to our day. I think that if you begin the day with the most difficult task, it makes the rest of your day a lot easier, smoother and more relaxed. But the truth is that this house (and we do it at the beginning) is so treacherous that it complicates the pain in my back! And then it just morphs into the pain in my ass! Ha!
So there, the beginning to our beginning. And boy do I wish I could end that statement witht the word end
*pics not from the Woods' home, just great examples to express my words*
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
SCROLL FURTHER FOR THE INTRO
I strode up the stairs and saw my sweaty, exhausted reflection bouncing back at me from the insanely elaborate and ginormous mirror. As I did, I couldn’t help but think of my second-grade school teacher and her career day project lecture to us.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” She was the first person to ask me this as well as the first to make me think about it. My response felt easy, simple and decent enough.
“A maid,” I answered gaily.
“Oh no! Anything but that!” She exclaimed, her eyes bugging out at me.
Between her next words I remember thinking to myself, who does she think she is dictating my future goals? I can be whatever I want!
I was an angry seven-year-old…and a foolish one. For when I so naively answered, a maid, my thoughts had instantly gone to my mother’s never ending soap-operas. In every show a delicate, polite, humble yet smart young lady would emerge from the shadows and play a huge role in the story. She would always end up being much more than a simple maid. In my child-like mind that meant a huge deal. I saw her as a heroic character. I wanted to be her, in a sense. I never understood that her role truly only existed in the ridiculous notion of a Spanish television show.
My teacher’s next words to me were, “One day you will be somebody and will employ a maid. But you will never be one. Don’t aspire to be one.”
Kind words should have stayed with me. They should have pushed me to reach my truest goals and aspirations. I thought about all this as I stared into my reflection of that wondrous mirror; a mirror which was mantled on someone else’s wall. The wall which belonged to the house I was cleaning.
Okay, it’s not that I didn’t entirely listen to her. You see, life takes you places that you sometimes don’t want to go. And although it had been my childhood delusion to be a cleaning lady, it hasn’t been so in a very long time. I grew up and became one with the idea of holding success. But in the wisdom-filled words of Thomas Edison, “Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits”.
I fell and tumbled low. I was jobless for over a year and although my resume spoke highly of me, it seemed employers found candidates with fuller resumes or ones that would do the job for much less. Eventually, desperation forced me to settle. It’s not the next best thing, but a job nevertheless. It allows me to put food on the table and to pay my bills and to fill up my gasoline tank. I still struggle, except I no longer struggle jobless. I see it as hustling while I search for something better.
Regardless, I am a visionary and decided to further ponder and navigate my thoughts to come up with an explanation to the answer I gave my teacher so long ago.
I came up with this:
Television is never realistic, even when discussing a reality show, there is nothing rational nor ordinary about it. And soap-operas stand high in the rank of the, Not Likely To Happen In Real Life, category.
In typical shows like these, I sort characters in two groups; the bad guys and the good guys. Most of the shows I watched with my mother included a person of service who played a somewhat heroic part. Someone who was good, smart, lovely, hated on, however, they remained good. This person, or character, was also unfortunate and deprived of. The, oh so famous maid, was usually one of these characters.
I’ve always been known to be a dreamer. I reach high for the skies in hopes of one day being able to touch the billowy clouds.
As a kid, I preferred to answer I was one of the underprivileged, meaning I could and would one day be at top while maintaining my high-spirited qualities.
I stay true to my primal motives; my words weren’t one with my thoughts then. In reality I wasn’t sure of the occupation I would embody. So my answer aimed to respond regarding my actions. That I would one day be someone great. And I believe I am.
So while I’m scrubbing kitchen and bathrooms floors on my hands and knees, I don’t really see the rag sliding under me. No, I’m still dreaming—still hunting for my dream job.
It’s ironic. Yes, I’ll admit that and I’ll even smile a bit as I mock myself. I do wonder though, what would my 2nd grade teacher say if she saw me today? All grown up and cleaning houses which should really be called mansions. “My, my, Xochitl. You sure reached your goal!” I’d laugh and respond. “Nope, still climbing. I’ll reach the top someday, though. You’ll see!”
Ah yes. Positivity. It chimes sardonically as do the bells hanging down from the home owner’s patio. And perhaps if I’d tell my friends all of this, they’d ridicule me as well. For believing in a child-like fantasy to, as they say, be somebody. But what else can I do? I’m not satisfied with how my life is. And if I don’t change it who will?
So in the mean time, I’ll keep scrubbing floors and cleaning toilet bowls. At least I’m moving forward!
I strode up the stairs and saw my sweaty, exhausted reflection bouncing back at me from the insanely elaborate and ginormous mirror. As I did, I couldn’t help but think of my second-grade school teacher and her career day project lecture to us.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” She was the first person to ask me this as well as the first to make me think about it. My response felt easy, simple and decent enough.
“A maid,” I answered gaily.
“Oh no! Anything but that!” She exclaimed, her eyes bugging out at me.
Between her next words I remember thinking to myself, who does she think she is dictating my future goals? I can be whatever I want!
I was an angry seven-year-old…and a foolish one. For when I so naively answered, a maid, my thoughts had instantly gone to my mother’s never ending soap-operas. In every show a delicate, polite, humble yet smart young lady would emerge from the shadows and play a huge role in the story. She would always end up being much more than a simple maid. In my child-like mind that meant a huge deal. I saw her as a heroic character. I wanted to be her, in a sense. I never understood that her role truly only existed in the ridiculous notion of a Spanish television show.
My teacher’s next words to me were, “One day you will be somebody and will employ a maid. But you will never be one. Don’t aspire to be one.”
Kind words should have stayed with me. They should have pushed me to reach my truest goals and aspirations. I thought about all this as I stared into my reflection of that wondrous mirror; a mirror which was mantled on someone else’s wall. The wall which belonged to the house I was cleaning.
Okay, it’s not that I didn’t entirely listen to her. You see, life takes you places that you sometimes don’t want to go. And although it had been my childhood delusion to be a cleaning lady, it hasn’t been so in a very long time. I grew up and became one with the idea of holding success. But in the wisdom-filled words of Thomas Edison, “Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits”.
I fell and tumbled low. I was jobless for over a year and although my resume spoke highly of me, it seemed employers found candidates with fuller resumes or ones that would do the job for much less. Eventually, desperation forced me to settle. It’s not the next best thing, but a job nevertheless. It allows me to put food on the table and to pay my bills and to fill up my gasoline tank. I still struggle, except I no longer struggle jobless. I see it as hustling while I search for something better.
Regardless, I am a visionary and decided to further ponder and navigate my thoughts to come up with an explanation to the answer I gave my teacher so long ago.
I came up with this:
Television is never realistic, even when discussing a reality show, there is nothing rational nor ordinary about it. And soap-operas stand high in the rank of the, Not Likely To Happen In Real Life, category.
In typical shows like these, I sort characters in two groups; the bad guys and the good guys. Most of the shows I watched with my mother included a person of service who played a somewhat heroic part. Someone who was good, smart, lovely, hated on, however, they remained good. This person, or character, was also unfortunate and deprived of. The, oh so famous maid, was usually one of these characters.
I’ve always been known to be a dreamer. I reach high for the skies in hopes of one day being able to touch the billowy clouds.
As a kid, I preferred to answer I was one of the underprivileged, meaning I could and would one day be at top while maintaining my high-spirited qualities.
I stay true to my primal motives; my words weren’t one with my thoughts then. In reality I wasn’t sure of the occupation I would embody. So my answer aimed to respond regarding my actions. That I would one day be someone great. And I believe I am.
So while I’m scrubbing kitchen and bathrooms floors on my hands and knees, I don’t really see the rag sliding under me. No, I’m still dreaming—still hunting for my dream job.
It’s ironic. Yes, I’ll admit that and I’ll even smile a bit as I mock myself. I do wonder though, what would my 2nd grade teacher say if she saw me today? All grown up and cleaning houses which should really be called mansions. “My, my, Xochitl. You sure reached your goal!” I’d laugh and respond. “Nope, still climbing. I’ll reach the top someday, though. You’ll see!”
Ah yes. Positivity. It chimes sardonically as do the bells hanging down from the home owner’s patio. And perhaps if I’d tell my friends all of this, they’d ridicule me as well. For believing in a child-like fantasy to, as they say, be somebody. But what else can I do? I’m not satisfied with how my life is. And if I don’t change it who will?
So in the mean time, I’ll keep scrubbing floors and cleaning toilet bowls. At least I’m moving forward!
INTRO
Here on "The Cleaning Whiz" I'm going to share my crazy, unheard of, exhausting yet funny tales of your very non-typical ‘cleaning lady’. I ended up with this job because I couldn’t find anything else and I was desperate! I mean, who wants to be a maid, right? Well, not me! Nothing personal, it isn’t shameful or dishonest…it’s simply a way to make a living. Just not my dream job, that’s all. C’mon, we all have a “dream job/career” right? You got the regulars: a teacher, doctor, astronaut, vet, and then you got the ones with the strange desires to be a coroner, or a… (can’t think of any others…add them in the comment section!) Anyway…growing up I didn’t really know what I wanted to be but there’s a funny story leading to this particular job! I’ll post it up in a bit and let it have the spotlight all by itself.
Moving on, this blog is here to share the tales of a cleaning lady with you. You’re gonna read about all the dirty stuff, the people, their homes and even their pets. Not only about them (or the lives I’ve given them because I don’t REALLY know about their personal affairs) but you will also get a backstage VIP pass to what we, cleaning ladies, do. ALL. OF. IT. And don’t think it’s at all simple. Because it isn’t. Don’t worry…You’ll see…
-The Cleaning Whiz S.B.
***the video below does NOT have any association with me. I simply searched for a video on youtube and thought I should share***
Moving on, this blog is here to share the tales of a cleaning lady with you. You’re gonna read about all the dirty stuff, the people, their homes and even their pets. Not only about them (or the lives I’ve given them because I don’t REALLY know about their personal affairs) but you will also get a backstage VIP pass to what we, cleaning ladies, do. ALL. OF. IT. And don’t think it’s at all simple. Because it isn’t. Don’t worry…You’ll see…
-The Cleaning Whiz S.B.
***the video below does NOT have any association with me. I simply searched for a video on youtube and thought I should share***
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