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I Don’t Know How Housewives Do It – God Bless You

Updated on January 8, 2008

My guy is a performer so he has been on the road for the past three months. What that means is that it's been me and the two cats for all this time and since it's just been us let me be easy on myself and say that I let things go a bit when it comes to the usual housework. That's right I'm going to admit it, the house was a mess. Now there was no mold growing anywhere (or anything so awful as that) but between the filth, the cat hair and my guy coming home tonight, today it was necessary for me to become a white tornado. It's not like our place is huge in the least and I'm not even sure I managed to clean every nook and/or cranny but I'm freaking exhausted so ladies (and men - as I know there are some out there who are stay at home hims) my Playtex Living Gloves are off to you. I don't know how housewives do it - God bless them - Don't Get Me Started!

There was no Julie Andrews singing about a spoonful of sugar as I awoke this morning with the dreaded realization that I had left all of the cleaning that should have been done over the weekend to the day of the actual arrival of my mate. Now I've always been someone who works better on a deadline and today was it. So as I awoke, I decided before breakfast, the bathrooms and kitchen floor (my most hated jobs) would need to be attacked first.

I walked into our bathroom and immediately just started taking everything off the counter so that I was working with a fresh palette as it were. After doing the mirrors, the counters, toilets and sinks it was time for the dreaded shower/tub. I despise trying to clean this as it's old and no matter how much you scrub you're fighting a losing battle to a certain extent and I don't like to lose. Now I am known for having every kind of electronic device imaginable and when it comes to cleaning this follows suit with the rest of my life however the dirt that had accumulated was much more than my battery operated Scrubbing Bubbles "mister" could handle so it was going to have to be me and as many chemicals as I could get my hands on doing battle with the scum. I'm aware that these chemicals I'm using are toxic but I become so crazed about getting things clean that I become Joan Crawford. Suddenly I'm mixing a lethal combination of two or three cleaners, spraying until my trigger finger needs a break to regain feeling in it. Next I'm scrubbing like my life depends upon it with my head in the oh so very unventilated shower/tub. I don't care that I'm getting light headed, between the soap scum and the fact that the water in Vegas is so hard it dries white almost immediately and nothing will penetrate it - but nothing, I continue to scrub. Finally as the skin begins to tingle on my hands (though I wrote about Playtex gloves, I don't own any and every time I go on one of these cleaning binges I tell myself that I have to get them as soon as possible but it never seems to happen) so with a light head and hands starting to look like a bad experiment in chemical interaction, I weave toward the bedroom window and fling it open. (Now although it's Vegas, it's still January so it's pretty cold but I had to air the house and myself out.) As the brisk breeze went through the house I went to the kitchen.

Besides being gay, I'm Jewish so what do I know from cleaning, right? Although both of my grandmothers were most likely certifiably OCD sufferers when it came to cleaning, let's just say that I did not inherit that gene. No, my Mother always worked so if my brother and I weren't cleaning the house then we were ordering someone in to do it, like dinner. I never really got the whole mopping thing. I know it's easy but I just always feel like I either use too much cleaner or not enough but the end result never pleases me and I'm always wondering if I'm not just pushing the dirt around. It's like the lyrics in the song, "Anyone Can Whistle" - "What's hard is simple, what's natural comes hard. Maybe you could show me, how to let go, lower my guard, learn to be free. Maybe if you whistle, whistle for me." So I do it like some old black and white movie. I'm on my hands and knees with the bucket and I'm scrubbing like Irene Dunne in "I Remember Mama" but I have no idea what in the hell I'm doing.

The other thing that always happens to me is that I start doing one thing like cleaning my office and I go into the kitchen for something like a paper towel and suddenly I'm scrubbing the top of the refrigerator. Time has no meaning for me as I continue the cleaning frenzy. I don't know what gets into me but I definitely go into a "zone" of some sort.

By the time the house was clean enough for me to feel like I did something and could see a difference and smelled like a pine tree took a crap in it (from all the cleaning supplies) I was exhausted. As I flopped on the couch I thought about the fact that my guy has a cold and I should attempt to make some chicken soup for him to come home to as it would make the house smell less like a mental ward (with me as the star patient) and would comfort him - some good old Jewish penicillin, eh? But you see, my guy does all the cooking and I know about as much about making chicken soup as I do about changing the oil in my car and even with the most basic recipe I could find online was way too involved for me to even contemplate. Alas, it was to the store where a couple of cans of chicken soup were purchased.

And so I began to think about the scores of women throughout time who do this cleaning thing every day and make a meal. Never mind the ones who have small children to tend to as well. With the cats, they just go into hiding under the bed (no doubt looking for the pod that this person who looks like their owner but is running about like a rabid raccoon alien came from) Well ladies, all I have to say to you is what are you, freaking nuts? I can't even imagine it, honestly I just can't. I mean, I was so exhausted that I couldn't even think about cutting my fingernails let alone some vegetables and making a meal. You're what we've always called my Dad, you're an FW (Fucking Wonder)! I don't know how housewives do it - God bless them - Don't Get Me Started!

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    • profile image

      Abhinaya 10 years ago

      It IS hard for housewives.You have to be on your toes round the clock if you have kids what with all the cleaning,mopping,dish washing............Even if you have a maid you have to keep an eye on her all time she is there.

    • sminut13 profile image

      sminut13 10 years ago from singapore

      oooo i hate housewifey work too. man too lazy

    • Lela Davidson profile image

      Lela Davidson 10 years ago from Bentonville, Arkansas

      ...which is why I will be at the spa today!

    • somelikeitscott profile image

      somelikeitscott 10 years ago from Las Vegas

      So not true and I've got the scrubbed out hands and knees to prove it!!

    • Stacie Naczelnik profile image

      Stacie Naczelnik 10 years ago from Seattle

      And they say housewives/stay at home moms don't work.....