Complaining about housework when This Economy causes the dream of home ownership to elude more and more people is a bit like complaining about your job when the unemployment rate exceeds 10 percent.
And that's why I’m going to tell you, reader(s), what I did today instead of napping on my cozy couch and watching football so as to track points scored by the players on my fantasy football team (as the late games begin, the Soup Nazis trail by more points than I care to admit). I opted not to wreck my night’s sleep and instead embraced the potential to attain the unmistakable feeling of accomplishment.
Not complaining. Not me.
Instead of napping, I washed five windows this afternoon, where “washed” equals removed the storm windows and washed every pane inside and out, and “windows” equals the old-style kind that are the same age as my younger sister (hi, Bets!). The windows do not tilt in for “easy cleaning.” They are single-pane glass with multiple panes on each.
(Full disclosure: Yesterday, Soup Husband Curt traded out screens for storms and washed a French door and a triple casement window above our kitchen sink, AND he helped me wash the last two storm windows… so I am not complaining about having to do this odious chore by myself.)
We don't often clean our windows. The last time they were cleaned was the fall of 2006, during the brief time when our house was on the market for sale. And THAT was such a fun time – Soup Husband Curt had taken a job in Central PA and moved up ahead of the family to begin work. I stayed behind for the first two months with a fifth grader, a third grader, and a one year old, plus a fur-tumbleweed-producing golden retriever and a vomiting cat, until we secured a house in PA. Fortunately, we didn’t sell this house, but ended up renting it instead for a few months – long enough for us to realize that what really needed to happen was us moving back to Maryland, resuming our lives as if we’d never left.
Where was I? Oh, right. So three years ago, we outsourced the window cleaning then to some outfit whose coupon arrived in our mailbox. When you have a couple of people working it, the window cleaning process goes fast, and when they’re done, all the windows in the whole house are sparkling clean in just a couple of hours’ time. When you’re doing it yourself, it’s decidedly slower. Cheaper – but slower.
I scrubbed spider poo off of storm panes. I vacuumed cobwebs and dead bugs out of the sash. I vanquished more stink bugs than I can count. I perched on a ladder and washed panes outside, then I went inside and did the same thing, using Sprayaway glass cleaner and pages of newsprint. (Look Ma, no streaks!)
And now? The windows look AWESOME. I just need to keep the dog’s nose and the preschooler’s sticky hands away lest they smudge and sully my clean windows.
I worked hard! But now it’s dark, and the late games are nearing halftime. I’m pouring a glass of wine and parking my butt on the couch, four hours after I originally considered doing so.
So, the old joke about “I don’t do windows?” Well, I understand why “they” used to say that. Or still do. This is not a job for everyone. But I? I do do windows. Or I did today, anyway. I may not do ‘em for another three years. I may hire the job out next year. But today, I did ‘em.
