Smirking From Home

Turning ideas into words.

Cleaning: The Manly Way.

The downstairs of our house has no carpet. You have to love tiles and wooden floors, although I would much prefer to partake in a spot of vacuuming as opposed to “down on the knees” scrubbing and mopping. There is, however, a solitary maroon mat in the family area. Right behind me now as it happens. It acts as the communal gathering point for rebellious crumbs and hooded cat hairs, the dust particle equivalent of the local park, only without the bottles of Lurgan Champagne. One minute it’s nice and Dyson fresh, the next it possesses a furry stubble. The damn cat’s the main offender. How she manages to open the packet of digestives I’ll never fathom.
 
Sunshine slashing through the window blinds usually exacerbates the problem, the same way it show’s just how much dust can congregate on your 32″ LCD. Today was no exception and for fear of the rug standing up and walking out of the house in open rebellion, I gave the Dyson its weekly outing. Two minutes is all it takes. Nice and simple, no nooks or crannies to negotiate and nothing that should worry anybody who has a talent at cleaning or housework of any sort.
 
Or so you would think. I do my fair share about the house but in a manly way. Not by wearing a loincloth and wrestling grizzlies kind of manly, but more like shuftying things about the place kind of manly. Think Phil Spencer and Kirsty Allsop. Think hunt the thimble. And more importantly, understand the male appreciation of the shortcut. In today’s case, the mat was easily and quickly sucked clean. As were the surrounds and beneath the sofa. By beneath the sofa I mean the first inch and a half the nozzle can penetrate. Robert’s christening is a few weeks away so the big spring clean can wait another day. What I shouldn’t have done was attempt to clean the computer desk the manly way. No need for a dustcloth or polish. Attack the fag ash and toast crumbs with the hoover, that’s the way to do it. Just be careful about items on your computer desk that have temporarily dropped by to say hello. Say, for example, a half drank cup of coffee. Or a fabric baby’s bootee.
 
It’s that split second when you know something’s about to happen, you know you should be doing something about but the connection between your brain and your reflexes blows a fuse. Whoomph! “Pants”. At least the camel and the eye of the needle idea could be proved if you had a large enough vacuum cleaner. Where had it gone? Well I can now honestly say I know how the extruding accoutrements of a Dyson are assembled. Meccano training as a 10-year-old has finally had its uses. Putting it all back together was naturally trickier than expected. That’s one of the predictable facets of life, rarely disproven by man or beast.
 
So what have I learned today? The bloomin’ obvious mainly. Sometimes it’s better to sacrifice the manly, shortcut method of cleaning the house and use yer paws. We men eh? We’ve all been there at some point, haven’t we? And does the hoover still work? Can’t answer that. The mats already been cleaned for this week.
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February 12, 2010 - Posted by | I Am What I Am | ,

1 Comment »

  1. A small note for the readers, some of whom may not be used to reading a blog. The text in bold are links to other pieces of information on the or in most cases in my blog so far, funny images.

    Comment by Magz | February 14, 2010 | Reply


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