Our kitchen is the cleanest it’s ever been. Even cleaner than when we moved in (since the people who left didn’t clean the house before they moved out…is it just me, or is that really rude and gross?)!
It’s all due to Tsh’s e-book, Spring Cleaning for Normal People. I don’t get paid to plug her, I just really like her site and really like her e-book (and hey, what’s not to like about a book I can leave on my computer–one less thing to clutter up my house). I think I bought it two years ago, and though I’ve never done it in 10 days straight like the book lays it out, I’ve always appreciated her great tips and step-by-step process. It makes me, a chronic multi-tasker, able to focus on one thing and get it done before moving onto the next. That is HUGE for me, since I tend to start shining the sink and go, “Oh, the cupboards should be wiped down.” Then as I wipe them down, I’ll inadvertently open one and decide that I should remove every single item in them and start organizing. And my husband comes home to a giant mess, complains, and I respond that it’s all okay because I’m “organizing.” Ha! Piles everywhere….that is the name of my game.
I just commented to him that out of all the things I could have inherited from my family, why couldn’t it have been neatness? I mean seriously, instead I got Mom’s thighs and Dad’s shoulders. Straight A’s in high school don’t mean much if you can’t keep your kitchen counter clutter-free. But I wouldn’t probably have the creative, fun side of me without a case of the messies.
Anyway, all that to say that I pretty much followed the kitchen cleaning part to the letter this time (I started with the kitchen since I haven’t gotten to it in-depth the past two years), and it feels AWESOME. The only thing on the list I didn’t do is clean my oven. It’s not in my genes. That is the one part of my mom’s house that makes me feel all self-righteous. I can run my fingers over her shelves and not find a speck of dust. I can eat off her floors. Her mirrors don’t have fingerprints on them. Don’t get me wrong–I think it’s super that she’s so clean (remember, I wish I could be!). But when I open her oven and see burnt-on scum, I feel all tingly inside. Sorry to out you, Mom. But nobody’s perfect, and I like that. Your dirty oven makes me happy.