What a typical working Thursday used to look like some years ago:
- Stay in bed until the last minute, because I barely had any the previous night.
- Get dressed for work in like 30-60s or something. Having shoes with nether laces nor Velcro helped.
- Cart 4-5 buckets of cleaning supplies across a drive way, up a staircase (maybe 15-18 steps, whatever it was, it was a stretched one), and half way down a hallway. Back then they were organised into palletised “Groups”, e.g. kitchen cleaning, bathroom clearing, etc; which her royal pain couldn’t stand but made it easier to deploy. So I had to be driven nutso over that.
- Clear the floors: piles inches deep of cloths, toys, food, dishes, papers, and dog faeces; much of it soaked in dog piss and often things were covered in the modern equivalent of gak. There was literally so much crap in every room, that stuff had to be scrapped off the rotting hard wood floors with an old trowel or something. I shit you not.
- About three trash bags and countless dustpan-fulls later, the floors had to be swept.
- Make sure the cloths either made it into the washer, or got piled up for next week.
- Strip and change sheets for three beds
- Help dust every thing and wipe all the grime
- Prep the bathrooms for clearing; e.g. ditch the towels, bring in the supplies, shake the rugs, etc.
- Bleach and scrub two tubs and a shower; usually get cussed a blue streak over it. I don’t even want to know about some of the stains. Ventilation was like a bolted window or something; think the smaller room had a fan and an open door.
- Provide ‘backup’ with the mopping of the floors; usually by scrapping crap off the deck with my finger nails.
- Cart all the supplies downstairs and try not to trip over anything, *oy*.
- Sweep down the stairs.
- Start cleaning the living room an the den: see above points 4, 5, 6, 8, and 11.
- Be expected to leave 5+ Windows streak free that I’d rather throw myself out of.
- Cart all the supplies into the kitchen.
- Repeat above points 4 and 8 in the kitchen floors and counter tops using disinfectant. The once white counter tops were usually closer to bronze or burgundy esque colour; not even bleaching the freaking things could make much headway in getting them to *look* clean.
- Try to put away whatever pots/pans/dishes were still clean, while ma saw to the devastated ones.
- Help scrap out the Microwave, someone would always managed to nuke the MW instead of nuking the food.
- Clean and scrap out the oven.
- Scrub the walls all around the ground floor, while ma assaulted the stove top; interrupts being to get her other supplies /or help.
- Take a moments break to lean against a wall, while ma cleaned the wc next to the kitchen. While chewing me out over anything and everything.
- Cart the supplies back across the drive way and stuff them in the car. On a good day it might be windy, so there would be fresh air: and chasing after crap that flew away.
- Repeat point 11 for the kitchen and associated wc. If you tried eating off the floor at any point, I would suggest a Cyanide chaser.
- After six hours or so of that shit: go home or get dragged across a supermarket on the way.
- Fling every ounce of clothing into the wash and scrub…
- Grab something quick to eat and pour a drink; be thankful if my allergies settled down by then. Working out there blew through paper towels and sneezing attacks, like a hot knife through water.
- Try and catch a few hours of game time; be happy if not interrupted every 5-15 minutes.
- Hope to catch my favourite show, assuming we hadn’t had to work even further over time…
- Work on my studies; be happy if not interrupted every 5-15 minutes.
- Eat dinner; usually left overs or something quick.
- Eventually “Bed time”.
- Be glad that at long last, I’m no longer being cussed at all damn day long or treated like a pack mule.
- Actually get cracking on my studies, various projects, and, ahem, anything but a restful sleep…
- Finally tend to closing clandestine odds/ends, and pass out around 0500.
- Be thankful that Friday was a different job.
- Wish Sunday would inch by, so there would be something to do other than working on things.
My GOD, I can still see those filthy floors… the happiest day of my entire fucking life, was when they could no longer pay for the cleaning.
I swear, I have never danced like that in my entire life lol. Imagine finding 10k in gold under a rock, fuck yeah, it was that kind of joy at being let go. In my life, I’ve had to work three different weekly jobs like ‘that’ trip at the O’s place. One such job was working both a full and half day every week, but at least they didn’t have so many dogs like the O’s and the F’s did. Some gigs were more tiring (especially the two-three years at the F’s place) but I don’t think any where was that bad on the grime. It was the kind of place you would feel like disinfecting your ass hole if you ever had to sit somewhere.
The jobs I get stuck doing now’re days, are a total breeze by comparison. For all the years I suffered through of Thursdays like that over the past 6-7 years, that when I wake up and don’t have to work on a Thurs’, you can bet that I’ve got a sigh of relief inside. Whenever I have to pass by that particular house on the way to somewhere else, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
If you’ve ever thought your house was a mess, you ain’t seen jack shit until you’ve been in the real cleaning business.