My very favorite day of the month is when the cleaners come. I anticipate their arrival like a giddy school girl on her first date. I pick up the house, and when I come home from school, the whole place smells clean; there is no dust on the shelves, no dog hair in the corners; the beds are made, and if I can get my act together, there are actually clean sheets on them (YES! They will even change your sheets~ I LOVE these people); the counters, refrigerator, and mirrors shine; the stove looks new.
My joy turns to despair, however, when the first family meal is served. Little T is quite the messy eater, and I find myself on hands and knees picking up his crumbs from the freshly mopped floor. My dispair turns to misery when the kids take a bath, and the gleaming tub gets tarnished. My misery turns to abject desperation when we brush teeth the next morning, and my daughter sprays the shiny mirror with her toothpaste spit.
I would love to have 24 hours with a shed free dog and two children who knew how to wipe their hands on napkins instead of each other and the furniture. It seems that the minute the rest of the family walks into the house, it loses its Eau de Pine Sol odor and begins to once smell like wet dog and dirty children.
I'm wondering if this whole cleaning thing is worth the money.
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