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Mr Clean

My wife left for work this morning, she told me to clean this house and vacuum the floors. She really did, she really told me to do it. I'm pretty sure from my blank stare she was aware that I had no intention of doing any of it.

Nor was I going to get the water hose out of the yard, mow the lawn or wash the car. I'm sure that realistically, she knew I was going to sit here and watch Peter Seller's Pink Panther Movies all day.

It's not that I have anything against cleaning the house, but that like most other things, I've had a bad experience with.

When I was a kid we had a lady that came to clean our house. Now I still don't understand this, but the lady came on Thursdays. On Wednesday Mom made me spend all day cleaning my room, because she didn't want the cleaning lady to see it. We must have been the only family in the world that cleaned house so the cleaning lady wouldn't see it dirty.

Even back then I hated cleaning house. It was nothing for the cleaning lady to report to my mother she found my underwear stuck in my boots stashed up under my bed. The mystery wasn't how my underwear got there. No, it's simply that my boots were there and the dirty clothes hamper was way down the hall. It seemed more convenient just to stick them down my boot. After all, I was wearing tennis shoes that day.

The mystery to me was how the lady came to look inside my boots. She wouldn't do windows yet she cleans the inside of my boots? I demanded she be fired immediately. I was grounded for a week. Proved to me Mom and Dad loved the cleaning lady more than me. These days kids get therapy for such things. See, I did have a bad experience cleaning house.

Now, I'm not without reason here. We've lived in this house for nine years, it's time we started doing a little maintenance. My wife recently figured out the screens come out of the windows. Now that my excuse is no longer valid I guess I'll have to Windex the glass. Of course I don't want to get in too big a hurry just to run out and do it. There's a good chance if I sit here long enough, I'll think of something far more important to do. It would not do us any good if I spent all day cleaning windows and missed something important I should have thought of.

Now, don't let her lie to you, my wife isn't likely to ever write a book on homemaking. Granted she's one of those hoity toity bank people and probably has important things to think about at night, but I don't see her running out to buy Pine-Sol in the 30 gallon tub. I'm sure she's tired coming home from slaving over a hot computer all day.

I try to explain to her all the things I do around here during the day. I watch the news, so I can keep her informed of world events. I watch the Oprah show, so I can learn how to be a better husband. Just last week I paid some kid to wash her car. It's not like I don't do my share.

The closest she comes to Martha Stewart is occasionally she'll make some oatmeal raisin cookies. (Note to self: See if wife will make oatmeal raisin cookies tonight.) Although one day when she was home and I was gone, she did take it upon herself to clean my office. Tossed out all my important papers! Even my Cyndi Crawford calendar! Granted it was three years old, but some of those things are collectables aren't they?

I think what the world needs is automatic house cleaning machines! Something you turn the crank and it starts dusting and washing. All you have to do is get out of it's way. What man wouldn't rob his kid's piggy bank to buy one of those. (Another note to self: Have kid, buy plastic pig bank, get wife to fill pig with money, rob pig, go to Krispy Kreme, get donut.)

But sometimes I fool my wife. Before she gets home I pour Pine-Sol all over everything and tell her I cleaned. She figures since she smells Pine-Sol I must have done something. I guess the Pine-Sol is ruining the furniture and carpet, maybe this isn't the best plan. But I'm betting, before she finds out what I'm up to, someone will invent an electrified house cleaning machine. I'll buy her one and she'll get over her mad spell, about the ruined furniture.

Well, I hear my wife coming up the driveway, I've got some dishes to shove up under the sofa.

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