On Cleaning Other People's Houses

Yesterday, I picked up my grandchildren at school and stayed with them until their father came home. Their house is always a mess, at least according to my standards. My son calls me Mrs. Clean.

He was messy when he lived at home, except when he was smaller than I was, and I could frighten him into obedience about cleaning his room. My daughter's room was a pig sty also, worse than his, really, but she has turned out to be a good housekeeper. Despite having three boys, her house is generally in pretty good shape.

Since his wife left, my son talks a lot about cleaning house, but he never seems to quite get to it. He's had someone come in to clean several times, but it's not a regular thing. I suspect it's partially because he has to pick up before they come. I know of no one who would go in to clean his house, without having things picked up first.

I'll hasten to add that when his wife was there, the house was just as bad. At least he does better with the clothes. While she was there, I'd sometimes find such a large pile of clean clothes on the floor in the living room, that it could have amounted to five washer loads. What a daunting task having to face folding that many loads of clothes at one time. Sometimes I'd fold them while waiting for someone to come home. I couldn't put them away, because I didn't know where they went.

When I arrived at his house yesterday, there was the vacuum cleaner sitting in the middle of the living room. I looked around, and the floor didn't look too clean to me, so I assumed the vacuuming had not yet been done, and I proceeded to do it. Although for my advanced age, I'm still in pretty good shape, vacuuming is something that's hard for me to do. I have a back problem that vacuuming seems to aggravate.

When that chore was done, I looked around the kitchen floor, which is made of brick. That floor didn't look too clean, either. The vacuum doesn't work well on the brick floor, so I decided to sweep. After finishing that, I looked around and felt better about things in those two rooms, expecially after wiping off the tables in the kitchen and living room.

There was a pile of dishes in the sink, but I could not tell if the dishes in the dishwasher had been washed or not, so I let them be.

My son's room was not too bad. He had even made his bed! The children's rooms were a mess, as were the bathrooms. I picked up some towels and washcloths and put them in the washer, and then I decided to quit.

The children wanted popcorn, so I made popcorn. They're allowed to eat all over the house, which my children were not allowed to do, and soon I could see popcorn crumbs around - even in the living room which I had just vacuumed.

I'm sure that you are all spellbound by my house cleaning tale, but what I'm doing here is indulging in a bit of "murmuring". You know, that "murmuring" which caused the Lord God to become angry with the Israelites as they wandered in the desert. Please do not tell the Lord God about my "murmuring", just in case he might not have heard me.

When I clean other people's house, I feel somewhat like a wanderer in the desert.

I forced myself to take part of my regular walk when I got home, and by the time I reached my house after the walk, I was staggering.

Thus endeth the murmuring.