I Clean My House
Published by November 28th, 2007 in I Get Personal.You better clean this house, everybody’s talking
Clean this house, they really think it’s shocking
Clean this house, get that shit off the table
Clean this house, before you are unable *
Now that I’m an award-winning blogger, it hardly seems fair that I should have to clean my own house. In my last post, I hinted that I would be inviting all my readers to a house cleaning party. Um, that was not exactly a hint. It was kind of a demand. But since none of you have taken me up on it, I’ve decided to bite the bullet and clean my house myself. SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO.
Now, you and I may have different ideas about what exactly “bite the bullet” means in the context of house cleaning. To you, it might mean setting aside an entire day to clean the hell out of your house: scraping dried pancake batter from the ceiling, vacuuming up cat toys, and shoveling out the dust from behind the sofa. To me, “bite the bullet” means finally just bending down and picking up that piece of green pepper on the floor instead of kicking it out of my way 100 times a day.
I like to clean my house in bite-sized chunks. (Oh, my God. I just re-read this sentence. If you don’t go all the way to the end, it says “I like to clean my house.” This could be very misleading, so I’ve recast the sentence as follows:)
I hate to clean my house, but when I must do it, I force myself to complete one small task each day. This method takes about a year, but what do you want from me? You were all supposed to help. Anyway, today’s task: the stove.
THE STOVE!
Cleaning the stove may be broken down into three parts:
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Think about cleaning the stove.
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Look at the stove and reconsider. It’s not that dirty.
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Clean the damn stove.
OK, the process is actually broken down into more than three parts. Once I’ve reached the point where I’m ready to clean the stove, I remove the burner ringy-things (what are those things called?) and soak them in hot soapy water. Then I cover the top of the stove with a thick blanket of Soft Scrub, followed by a thorough spraying of 409. Just to be safe, I throw some Clorox on top of all that. Then I go off to do something much more enjoyable, like removing splinters from my eyeballs.
After waiting a good hour, I return to the stove and start cleaning off the three-inch-thick coating of cleansers. Underneath, the stove is still dirty only now it smells sort of poisonous. So I start scrubbing. Foolishly, I begin with a wiry-scrubbie pad (what are those things called?) before realizing I haven’t even penetrated the topmost layer of grime. So I switch to the brush we use for cleaning the grill. Results! Sort of. I am starting to see some white beneath the black crust.
It takes me about three hours to clean the stove, tho most of that time is spent waiting for the repeated application of cleansers to soak in so I don’t have to scrub as hard. Twenty rolls of paper towels, 5 pairs of rubber gloves, 3 scoury thingies, one grill brush later, I am done.
Before and After
Ta-da! What, did you think I was actually going to show you how dirty my stove was? I may have no qualms about posting a video of my freaking throat being jabbed, but ain’t no way you’re gonna see the sorry-ass condition of my stove pre-clean. But look at the “After”! So sparkly! So white! Just don’t look inside.
Make Cleaning a Game
The fun part of cleaning the house in such small increments is making Dave guess what I’ve cleaned when he comes home after a hard day of work. (Ssshhh! He doesn’t know he’s playing this game yet, which makes the penalties for guessing wrong—or not guessing at all—much more interesting.) Today it should be obvious—amid the crumb-covered kitchen counters, the cat food strewn across the floor, and the unspeakable mess at the bottom of our wastebasket stands a gleaming stove. If the stove doesn’t blind him, I will. Where’d I put that Clorox?
Tomorrow’s bite-sized chore might be a bit more difficult for him to guess. I shall be dusting off that one book on my shelf whose title I can’t read. Who says cleaning isn’t important? I may want to read that book!
If you want to clean your stove:
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Just don’t cook in the first place. Why do you think they invented microwaves?
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Instead of a white stove, consider buying a dirt-colored one.
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Buy a new house, one that already has a clean stove.
* Today’s lyrics are courtesy of Paul Kelly
I have found that when you let a ferret wrapped in fly paper loose in your house the black hole that is under the couch becomes quite free of cat hair.
Maybe you should look into that. You don’t have to lift a finger!
After many years of “coil-top” stoves, I was delighted that our new house had a smooth-top one. Infinitely easier to clean! Still need a chemical cleaner, but it doesn’t smell and make you pass out. As for cleaning the inside, it’s a self-cleaning one. All that means is you jack up the temperature and burn off the crud. To do this, you have to open all the windows in your house or it’ll set off the smoke alarms. And, yes, I know from experience.
“If the stove doesn’t blind him, I will.” Hilarious!
Jackie: Ah HA! The ol’ “ferret wrapped in fly paper” method. I hadn’t thought of that!
Maybe someone I know could write a guest blog on that topic?
Kathy: I need a smooth-top stove. Or at least those covers you can put over the burners to hide all the burned milk. And, based on your description, I think we’ve been self-cleaning our oven for years: the smoke alarm goes off whenever I bake anything!
I might just have to use your line with my husband.
I can see it now. (Clears throat) Umm, I *am* an award-winning blogger, you know. In the immortal words of IDTSYDHT (pronounced i-dit-see-dot), “it hardly seems fair that I should have to clean my own house.”
I’ll let you know what his response is.
Cardiogirl: Yeah. Let me know how that goes will ya? Seriously, these blog husbands have to get with the program and realize we just don’t have time for these mundane tasks anymore.
Eh.
Good luck!
This is very funny, so you can always claim the benefit of gaining hysterical new blog fodder with every ounce of bubbled-over spaghetti sauce.
is it inappropriate for me to confess my love for you, JD? i mean honestly. anyone who makes me pee my pants with every blogpost is pretty much the awesomest. thanks for, once again, doing things so i don’t have to. i had no intention of cleaning my stove anytime soon (ugh!) but now i don’t even feel like i have to. it seems dangerous anyway. love it as usual!!!
- sooz
Beware those smooth glass top stoves — they are EVEN worse than the burner ones. I’ve burned stuff onto mine that is now PART of the stovetop. And that black glass is impossible to clean without streaks everywhere. Oh hell, I vote for no more cooking, let’s get take out., reduce the stress on the blogging universe. Thank you JD for the inspirational (as usual) post, and I truly loved the before and after photos, especially the strategically placed gleamy shine marks.
Well….at least you clear yours.HA!
Sorry, I have tagged you with a NEW meme…
Pawhealer: You wouldn’t belEEVE how dirty it is. It has needed cleaning for about 6 months. Gross.
…skips off to check out this new meme!
Jeff: Yeah, I was thinking this might actually motivate me to cook more–and to burn more and make more messes. We can find blog ideas in the most mundane (and despised) events!
Susi: Awww. I return your love a thousandfold! Now go clean yourself up! (Cleaning is extremely dangerous. You’re much better off having someone else do it for you, tho I’m not exactly volunteering.
Elle: Thanks for the warning on the smooth-top stoves. Sounds like you could have quite an interesting food-mosaic pattern on your stove if you cook enough messes. (Thanks for noticing the “sparkle marks” on my shiny, clean stove!)