When My Wife Becomes Super Cleaning Woman

There is something about having an out of town guest that makes women go into the Super Cleaning Woman mode.  I am reduced to a Mr. Whipple wannabe meekly accepting my assigned chores that include cleaning behind stuff that won’t be moved until we sell the house and dusting in places I didn’t know existed.

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Super Cleaning Woman is in charge.  It’s not that I live in filth or the proverbial pigsty, I don’t.  My place is probably as clean as the next person’s most of the time.  I dust now and again and vacuum once a week or so.  My wife doesn’t allow me to wash clothes since my last effort resulted in white clothes turning a light yellow, though she washes every day.  I’ve never known how two people can dirty up so many clothes especially when I’m likely to have worn swimming trunks and a tee shirt all day. 

About once a month the place gets rather messy and we clean for a few hours.  This system works pretty well for me and I’m certain I could spend the rest of my days in this laid back, comfortable lifestyle.  But things go all to heck when a visitor is coming.  It really makes no difference who the visitor is, though if they are from out of town things are even worse, if that’s possible.

Understand that it doesn’t matter if the visit is to last two weeks or 20 minutes, the procedure is the same.  Like any guest is going to wander back to your bathroom and check for soap scum on the shower or look under your bed for wedding photos or check the dust along the baseboards. 

There is something about having an out of town guest that makes women go into the Super Cleaning Woman mode.  I am reduced to a Mr. Whipple wannabe meekly accepting my assigned chores that include cleaning behind stuff that won’t be moved until we sell the house and dusting in places I didn’t know existed.  My comfortable way of life is turned into a day or more on the chain gang.  Have you ever tried to dust under a 200 pound televisions set?  If so,why?  How does dust get there in the first place?

That woman’s magazine has to be placed at just the right angle on the coffee table.  The kitchen must look as if it has never been used and major surgery is to be performed on the counters.  Flowers and plants are bought, watered, dusted, arranged and spread about like the set for a Martha Stewart television program. 

Long ago I learned that resistance is a futile gesture which will only result in some diabolical scheme to pay me back.  The payback could be something as awful as not sending the check for those football tickets or deciding on a new color to paint the bedroom.  In any event the old saying about what goes around comes around definitely comes around.

Avoiding the cleanup detail may be almost as much trouble as grudgingly participating.  You can bring up your bad back or your recently discovered dust allergy, but they seldom work.  You could tell her that you’ve got to work some overtime, but she might want to spend that little windfall.  No, all things considered I suggest you grab a broom and get to work.       

Do women really believe they are fooling anyone?  Nobody, with the possible exception of Martha Stewart, lives in a house that looks like the cover of Homes for Compulsive Cleaners.  Got to run, it seems I missed a spot behind the filing cabinet.       

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