Not My Typical Day

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It was not going to be a normal day by any means. I woke at 6:45 a.m. and made my way to the coffee machine. I had a slight sense of dread knowing what the next few hours would entail. I had agreed to take on a cleaning job by myself, something I occassionally do with my friend, Mattie, who does this for a business… quickly and meticulously.

I would be flying solo on this one. And I wondered: could I produce a top-quality end product. Would it be good enough? Would it be as good as when Mattie does it? Or would the lady realize I am a fraud? Prone to overnight dishes in the sink, clutter on counters and cobwebs in corners.

Four hours. That’s how long this little project would last. That’s four hours and four full bathrooms; no wiping down cabinets or drawers. At least, that’s what she told me when I called a few nights ago to ask about the project. Then, when I get there, she tells me that she would like me to do the drawers and cabinets, especially in the children’s bathrooms. She also tells me to hit the baseboard (in the master bath toilet room) and wants me to use this pumice stone thing on the toilets and porcelain sinks, as needed. Okay, I tell her and get to work. I think: I’ll check my time and if it looks like I won’t make it on schedule, something will have to give.

After an hour and 45 minutes I’m just finishing the master bath… a monster of a project. I calculate how much time I have left to split between three baths and decide I need to pick up the pace. I skip the master bath cabinets and move on. I crank out the next two baths, with cabinets, in about 45 to 50 minutes. By the fourth and last bath tub I can hardly lift my arms. They feel like jello and they’re shaking. Boy, I am a wimp.

I’m not quite done yet and my four hours is up, so I set a new deadline 20 minutes ahead. I figure I can give her 20 minutes more out of the goodness of my heart, since I took so long on the master. But, not one minute more. She’ll have to pay for it otherwise. I’m not doing this for free. I mean, who in their right mind would do this for free? Oh, wait… I do, all the time. But not all at once. Not four full bathrooms in a row, because that’s just crazy. And anyway, who has four bathrooms? Who would want four bathrooms… to clean? But, anyway… on with my story.

So now I have until 1:00. I’m working furiously to beat the clock. I’ve fallen into a weird zen-like bathroom-cleaning rhythm. It’s beautiful, really. I know Mattie would be proud. I feel strangely energized, but really, I’m pooped. My fingertips are throbbing and my arms are practically useless. And I feel like a drowned rat because of all the water I inadvertently splashed on myself in the process.

I finish and meet her in the kitchen to tell her I’m done. She says something about how she appreciates my help and that was a lot, with the cabinets and floors… Floors? Did she just say floors, ’cause there’s no way I could do the floors in that time frame, too. So just to be clear, I tell her what I didn’t do: the master bath cabinets/drawers, the baseboards in the smaller baths, and no floors. Oh, and “The goop that was in the drawer of one of the kid’s bathrooms, when I went to try and scrub it off, it took the paint right off with it. Sorry, I had no idea that the goop had actually caused the paint to bubble up and ruin the finish.” I want to be honest, you know. No surprises.

I say goodbye quickly and with relief, I slide into my car and try to lift my arms onto the steering wheel. It feels like they weigh about 30 pounds each. I feel muscles I had long forgotten about. I really just want to go home, but I’ve got deliveries to make, a bank stop and a few more items to get for Mae’s birthday (number 19), which is also today.

*  *  *

Fast forward to the evening. We’re out to dinner at Chili’s. The young, not-so-bad looking waiter brings Mae a lava cake with ice cream. Does he sing for her? No. Instead, he sheepishly slides a note under her plate. To find out what it said and how she responded back, you’ll have to come back next time. I’m just too tired to tell you the story right now.

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