Spring Cleaning

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a lousy housekeeper. It's one of those things that sounds like a good idea in theory, but when reality sets in, it's something that can always be put off until tomorrow. The cats don't judge me on whether I've dusted the furniture or washed the toothpaste out of the sink, and they actually prefer it if I don't run the vacuum cleaner. (Ma Huang is terrified of the vacuum, and cowers under the bed for a few hours after I run it.)

Eventually, however, things reach a point when action must taken. The tub gets too grungy, all the forks in the house are dirty, and all of the clean socks seem to have vacated the premises. Or (as the case is at the moment) company is coming.

I've been doing some work around the apartment in preparation for Roger Mexico's upcoming visit, although I doubt that he really cares any more about dusted furniture than the kitties do. As long as he has a place to sleep, reasonably clean bathroom facilities, vegetarian-friendly food in the fridge, and a place to plug in his iBook, things should go smoothly.

But despite knowing this, I'm still working on getting the apartment clean. I'm doing it slowly, a few chores each night. I know my limits, and any thoughts of doing everything in one evening usually ends in me throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation, muttering "Ah, screw it," and collapsing on the couch to chain smoke and watch Bring It On for the millionth time.

For some reason, I decided to start with reorganizing the balcony. The mums that I planted 3 years ago had finally died (probably choked out by the weeds, which were thriving), the furniture was badly in need of a good scrubbing, and the suction cup bird feeder was empty and sadly hanging by one hook. I added flowers for repotting and a sturdy feeder to my shopping list, and headed off after work for a shopping spree at Michael's (the local arts and crafts chain) and Wal Mart.

Since I live on the top floor, there is no balcony above mine, which means I have nothing from which to hang bird feeders and the like. I purchased a large (65") gardening hook at Michael's along with a large set of wind chimes, and spent five minutes trying to figure out how to get the hook into the back of my car. Hatchbacks with fold down back seats are your friends, folks.

The next stop was Wal Mart, since I also needed to buy a new pair of sandals and some work-appropriate shorts in addition to the outdoorsy stuff. After buying a very comfortable pair of sandals, I headed down the cleansing products aisle and stopped to browse the scented candles. While standing there sniffing candles and trying to decide if I liked the Rain Shower or Tangerine Ginger scent better, I was approached by an elderly man, who immediately asked if I worked there. I glanced down at my shirt with the Zoo logo on it, and apologetically replied that I did not. (This happens every time I go into a Wal Mart wearing a uniform from another store. Come to think of it, I used to get questions about cold remedies when I worked at Warner Brothers and would run next door to CVS for a Diet Coke. Do I have "retail employee" written across my forehead or something?) The fact that I did not work for Wal Mart didn't seem to deter the man, since he proceeded to tell me about the air freshener he was looking for, grumbling that it didn't seem to be on the shelf. He finally shuffled away, muttering that he would just go to K Mart and get it there instead. Um, OK. Have fun at the House of Blue Lights, buddy. I decided to buy both candles and headed off to Home and Garden, singing Nirvana's "Lithium" under my breath.

For the most part, the Home and Garden section is a big mystery to me. I am not horticulturally inclined; I want flowers with maximum blooms and minimum care. Needless to say, I did not purchase the oriental lilies, despite them being absolutely gorgeous. I skipped over the petunias as well; while being a reasonably easy plant to deal with, I just don't like them all that much. I finally settled on two hanging baskets of impatiens, figuring I could transplant them into the large planter where the dead mums were currently residing.

While I was making my decision on which baskets to purchase, a couple asked me if I knew where the garden hoses were. Shouldn't the look of complete cluelessness on my face have given away that I don't know diddley squat about anything in this department?

I got sidetracked on my way to look at birdfeeders when I passed the citronella oil lanterns. I actually had one in my cart until I remembered that I had citronella candles at home that I'd purchased years ago and never used. (That should give you some indication about how often I use my balcony.)

Shopping for birdfeeders was almost as confusing as selecting flowers. So many decisions... hummingbird feeders, thistle feeders, squirrelproof feeders, ugly ceramic miniature houses. I've never seen hummingbirds or goldfinches in my area (they might be there, but I've never seen them), so I nixed the idea of hummingbird and thistle feeders. Any squirrel that can figure out how to actually get to my balcony deserves a few sunflower seeds, so I decided against the squirrelproof one as well. And my, were those ceramic houses ugly. All I wanted was a sturdy plastic songbird feeder, preferably with its own pole. Where were they?

At this point, a middle aged yuppie asked me if I knew where grass seed was. I explained again that I was not a Wal Mart employee, and didn't have the vaguest notion where grass seed was located. (Actually, it was right behind the guy. Several different kinds.) He replied that he knew that I didn't work there, but he thought that I would know. What the hell was that supposed to mean? The bright green button on my shirt was for the Frogs! exhibit. It did not say "Ask me about grass seed!" Whatever.

I finally found exactly what I was looking for, a plastic gazebo feeder that held six pounds of seed and came with its own pole. I tossed it into the cart and got the hell out of the store before anyone else mistook me for an employee.

It was growing dark by the time I got home. After lugging all of my purchases up to my apartment (leaving a trail of flower petals behind me), I moved everything out to the balcony to prevent the kitties from helping. (Kismet had already tried to help by attempting to eat the impatiens.) After removing the dead mums, the weeds, and a very confused snail (how did a snail get into a balcony planter?), I transferred the impatiens to the planter, making a huge mess in the process. By the time I got the wind chimes up and the bird feeder assembled, it was completely dark. I tried to sweep the clumps of potting soil and bird seed off the balcony, but I wasn't sure how successful I was, given that I couldn't see a damn thing.

I had other things on the agenda for the evening, but I decided the dishes could wait a little while longer. After vacuuming up the potting soil and bird seed that I had tracked into the house, I watched the end of Angel and took a hot bubble bath.

Last night, I cleaned out the coat closet. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be, and I am happy to report that I can finally fit my vacuum cleaner in there again. I also found three jars of bubbles (one unopened), a copy of Salman Rushidie's The Ground Beneath Her Feet (which I started reading three years ago and never finished), and four mostly-full boxes of litter box liners. It was like Christmas in June.

So I have an organized closet and a lovely balcony. Not big accomplishments, but I've still got a week to get everything else done. Tonight, I tackle the dishes and clean the bathroom. I'm saving the bedroom for last. It's a disaster, and could take more than one evening.

Roger Mexico needs to come visit more often. I'm much more motivated to clean the house when he's staying for the weekend.