I was raised in a spotless home. It’s not to say that it was beautiful -but it was not -however, it was clean from fan blades down to the floorboards. It wasn’t an easy feat, considering that our house was over 100 years old and could produce dust once you’d cleaned the surface (whatever the character was).
But, even the faux-brick linoleum kitchen flooring (and those blonde wooden floors later used to replace them) were so clean that they were safe to eat on -and entirely due to my German mother.
When I think back to the home I was raised in, I can recall the neat lines the vacuum cleaner left (and moving around them to keep them running as long as possible), The impossibly shiny kitchen floors that sparkled with linoleum, the slight whiff of bleach as I opened the refrigerator and the fresh feel of my ironed and starched sheets after I got into my the bed.
There were moments when my mother’s rigidity annoyed me, for instance, when I had to make guests take off their shoes, or when I was a teen, I started cooking and, with each spill of grease or food spill, I would feel my mother’s growing fear and, in the end, I adored this tidy life. Ultimately, the mess wasn’t necessarily forbidden because outdoor spaces were intended to serve (so long as you were willing to wash your hands before entering).
As a mature adult, I would like to believe that I have a clean house. Of course, when I judge my standards by my mother’s, I’ve got much to learn. However, I’ve learned a few lessons from her German Putzfimmel, or “cleaning fixation.”
It’s much better (and more convenient) to clean up sooner instead of later
I don’t think my mother ever made the kitchen messy in the evening. After dinner, we would ask her to take care of the dishes while I would sit at the table in the kitchen or, during winter, sit in a chair with my feet resting on the oven doorway, and I did my homework. She would fill the dishwasher, wash and dry everything, and clean the countertops. Sometimes, she gave the floors a quick sweep.
The following day, when we had to go downstairs at the ungodly hours of 4:45 am to get to swim practice, there weren’t any pots and pans clogging up the sink. There were dishes in the dishwasher that were clean dishes waiting to be stored away or used at breakfast.
In my own experience, There are certain moments when, blurry-eyed but not bushy-tailed, I make my coffee and find the grinds from yesterday within the French presses or in the Dutch oven that I used to cook the chickpeas from last night with the crusty remnants. I try to tidy up earlier rather than later, especially following a big meal. This mess won’t be able to get better quickly, and, in actuality, it’s likely to become worse.
My mom’s first action, and mine, is always to be focused and tidy up the mess: All the lot is taken off the dining area and into the kitchen. The leftovers are then packaged and stored in the fridge, thrown into the garbage, and (in my case ) fed to dogs. Dirty dishes go to be cleaned and then loaded. Those who need to be washed by hand take a trip to the bathroom with a clean dishtowel or (even more critical) someone who can help clean up using a dishtowel to dry them and then put the things aside. Everything is cleaned up in the final step, and lastly is the kitchen sink (including the basin and faucet). If I’m feeling particularly ambitious, I might fill the kettle with water and place the beans in the grinder to help make tomorrow’s coffee happen much faster.
A good vacuum is essential
The trick to keeping your floors spotless, whether carpet, wood, concrete or anything else, is to keep dirt from getting in. When I was growing up, we had a check-your-shoes-at-the-door policy, and for a while, I had this approach, too. I changed the rules the moment I got an animal (and after that, another). If you’re a pet owner, you’re aware that the dirt your shoes slither into is nothing compared to the land that comes into your shoes and the hair sucked from your pet’s.
Sometimes, you need to lower your knees and hands
From scrub brushes and rubber gloves to brushes and rubber gloves to Swiffers and Roombas, The world of cleaning has a wealth of tools to escape the dirt and grime. In addition to a broom a flimsy mop (made by using a mop’s handle and dishtowel), and a vacuum cleaner, my mom’s tools were limited to rags and sponges. The elbow grease was the key to her success, and it’s also my primary method (even when it means getting down on my knees and hands to remove that difficult stain off the floor).
It’s not a good idea to be too romantic. I’m not trying to be too idealistic. It’s just that something comes from cleaning something using your hands and the cleaning product you choose, going deep into dust and dirt, and then seeing the results sparkling in person that’s incredibly satisfying. Perhaps it’s the German in me, but after I’ve completed an excellent clean, all is well. Alles ist in Ordnung.
Imperfection is normal
Sincere apologies to my mom. I’m about to reveal an unsavory secret. One room in our home that was not clean was The laundry area. It was located in the section of the basement, which my nephew calls “the yucky basement” (i.e., the part that isn’t finished) and, as with the rest of the house, seemed to be chaotic with endless laundry baskets filled with my dad’s white shirts and the black socks of his kids, as well as towels, and bathing suits that smelt off of chlorinated water (all three of them were swimmers) and a sink that was rusting which was older than the home itself, half-full bottles of laundry soap.