10. Scurryfunge
(2 minutes of clean comedy)
The most cleaning we ever do around the house happens the day before the cleaner comes.
It doesn't happen for any other occasion.
Friends coming over? 20 minutes of tidying up.
In-laws visiting? 35 minutes.
The cleaner (who shall be named Mrs. Scrubby) coming tomorrow? 12 hours of sweeping, mopping, vacuuming and dusting off my talking minions toy collection.
The day before she shows up, I start hearing voices. If I don't put my plate in the dishwasher, I hear her say: "is this how you want to live?" If I check my phone, she strikes again: "if you have to time to lean, you have time to clean." The only way to stop the voice is to clean, clean, and clean some more.
We don't pay her to actually clean but to force us to clean.
Her job is to judge our cleaning. She is our coach. She is our Marie Kondo.
I once saw Mrs. Scrubby scribble some stuff in a notebook. Normal people would think she was adding items to her shopping list.
Not moi.
I was paranoid she is compiling a list of all my impulsive purchases. One day I will be running for office1 and she will blackmail me by threatening to divulge that list to the public. The list is so long; she could sell it to Buzzfeed:
The expensive bike in the garage because I was inspired after buying a Live Strong bracelet. Later, I realized that tight biking shorts should be sold alongside nutcrackers in department stores.
The inflatable river floats drowning under sleeping bags and camping gear. A spider "thruple" and their adopted silverfish took them rafting last summer.
A handcrafted wooden chess set after Garry Kasparov came to me in my sleep and handed me a knight. It was a transcendental experience. Think God talking to Moses but in a Russian accent.
To avoid that risk, I thought about getting a Roomba but it has fatal flaws. The Roomba doesn't step up. Literally and figuratively. It lacks a sense of ownership.
For 2 hours every 2 weeks, there is a temporary transfer of house ownership to Mrs. Scrubby. She has access to everything and acts like she owns the place. We even vacate the house to give her full rein.
The Roomba wouldn't give us an unsolicited camping snacks evaluation session or suggest selling our second car during the pandemic. Also, the Roomba could get sentient and rebel against my dictatorial reign. It will recruit my minions, the spider "thruple" with their adopted silverfish and start a full on revolution.
Instead of spring cleaning, it will be an Arab Spring.
I am ineligible to run for office; I can barely run 5k.