I am never cleaning my house again
I am sitting here working while a team of four women clean my home for me. And they’re doing a better job than I would do, too.
Oh, I straightened up and got things out of their way and made the place presentable—but they’re the ones doing the vacuuming and floor-washing and cleaning of windows.
They even cleaned my antique Chinese six-panel wooden screen, which stopped my heart when I saw that the window-washer had sprayed cleaning fluids on it. It seems to have taken no damage, and I will inform them that they must dust it only in the future.
Other than that, except for two missing cats (presumed cowering under something), this is great.
This is the same company I used to clean my old apartment. They were done in an hour. It would have taken me most of the day. And I got my security deposit back. Totally paid for the cleaning crew to come in and save me the effort.
They did the toilets. They did the windows. They even got the cobweb in the corner of the great room that’s, like, twenty-five feet high and impossible to reach without a really, really long extension. They had one. The cobweb is gone.
Nope. I’m never cleaning my house again.
