The Clan of the Cleaning Closet

Let me just admit right up front that I am not Suzy Homemaker.  As a matter of fact, my poor house suffers for my lack of skill (and my skill suffers for lack of desire).  If I could do what I wish, I would hire Merry Maids and be done with it, but that—alas—is not to be.  Thus, I have a closet full of cleaners where, front and center, a bucket stands as proudly as if it sported a chest full of military regalia because it contains those I actually use.  Lurking in the corners of the closet, the completely useless cleaners that I have rejected plot to hold their positions in the cleaning closet.

Concerning these cleaners and all their grandiose claims, I have to say that I am disappointed.  One bathroom cleaner, for example, declares that it gets rid of mold, mildew and soap scum.  It fails, however, to mention that it needs any help from me.  This should be considered false advertising, and I really think that there should be some sort of petition to force them to reword such egregiously false assertions. The bathroom cleaner sits securely in the bucket, its little so-called “scrubbing” bubbles smirking with the knowledge that no bathroom cleaner exists that will work on its own. Yet.

In the far right corner, the carpet cleaner sits smugly after infiltrating my home under cover in the box of my new vacuum. It works so poorly that we took out the carpet rather than use it again but it comes by its smugness honestly, because throwing it in the garbage is bad for the environment; thus, its place in my cleaning closet is secure. In a rigid line next to the carpet cleaner, a phalanx of dishwasher soaps stand at attention, secure in the knowledge that—like the carpet cleaner—they are safe from disposal because of environmental issues. Ironically, they secured their places in my closet by posing as “environmentally friendly—phosphate-free.” Each of these pretenders marched in without the dreaded phosphates and lacking as well any ability to get a dish clean.

A bottle of lime and rust remover, a can of turpentine, and three containers of window cleaner huddle in the opposite corner, with varying levels of content, bequeathed to me by "friends" who moved out-of-state and did not wish to carry their cleaners with them. Most of these offer no real use to me, but remain in the closet because my husband has declared that “they will come in handy one day.” They sneer at me as I pull out my bucket and every once in a while they crowd one of their ranks so that it will fall on me when I open the closet door. I swear I hear them chortling as I chase the rogue can or bottle that rolls across the floor after landing on my toe.

With the addition of huge containers of Pine-Sol and other cleaners purchased in bulk at the wholesalers’ club, these products threaten to spill out of the closet altogether, at which time I fear we will no longer be able to use our hallway and will have to enter our bedrooms through the windows. That being unacceptable, I suppose the best course of action will be to move out-of-state, sell the house, and let the new owners take charge of the clan of the cleaning closet.