Dirrrrrty

For those of you who have never had the experience of living in a NYC apartment, you would probably be very surprised at how dirty such a small amount of space can become in such a short amount of time. Dust bunnies multiply, dishes pile up (dishwashers are not standard issue, unfortunately) and piles and piles of clothing stack up because there is no room left in the closet (notice "closet" is not plural!).

Now, having been raised having to do my own chores, I know how to clean. But everyone else in this city has a cleaning person and I wanted one too. Call me lazy. So we finally gave in and hired our friend's cleaning lady to come in once every two weeks while we were at work to clean our place, for a small fee. It was worth it! The first day I walked in to the smell of a fresh pine-scented apartment, I was never so happy!! Things were really clean! Not wipe-a-sponge-over-it-clean, but truly clean! I was in love. I couldn't wait until the next time this mysterious woman whom I had never seen came over again.

I was free to be as messy as I wanted... for someone else was there to pick up the slacks (ok, dumb pun!). I felt a little bit spoiled, a little bit frivolous, but I didn't care. She returned and I was happy again, as I watched tv, stray kernels of popcorn getting stuck in the cushions of the couch, left there for her to vacuum during her next visit. The third time the place smelled a little more like cigarettes and less like lemon cleanser, but Eric said he'd talk to her and ask her to blow her smoke out the window the next time she came. Oh, was I presumptuous - for there would not be a next time. She stopped coming without even a call.

I can't help but wonder "Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Were my cleaning supplies inadequate? Were my dirty dishes too dirty? Did she perhaps get engulfed by the monumental pile of dirty laundry that we have yet to get picked up?" (Yes, in NYC you can get your laundry picked up/delivered for free.) I wanted Eric to call her and beg her to come back, but he lost her number and now it's just been too long. So I must go back to my way of cleaning, which involves a lot of complaining and even a couple of tears as I think about what I had and somehow lost... perhaps I'm still in denial, but I must check that laundry pile when I get home.