Ok I know it’s a pandemic not the apocalypse. But apocalypse is more dramatic and fun to say.
29 March 2020
Anyone who knows me, knows that I hate to cook, and I hate to clean. As I’ve been saying for years, I only make martinis and reservations.
When the salad bar at Whole Foods closed, I knew these would be desperate times. Luckily, I used to make a good salad dressing and do remember how to make a salad.
I found the can opener in the third drawer down in the kitchen. That drawer hadn’t been opened in years, and for good reason. It contains unneeded things like measuring cups. Things I hope to never have to use, and don’t remember the last time they were used. Probably when Richard made waffles for us. Those waffles were awesome. That was a lifetime ago.
I opened a can of lentils I bought that day and remembered how dangerous tin cans can be. I vow never to buy anything needing a can opener again. What if I cut myself and was bleeding to death, and the emergency response system didn’t respond? Too dangerous in a pandemic.
Since the housekeeper has been banned from my home until this whole thing is over (she’s the most likely person I know to contact Covid-19 and end up dead but only after contaminating every one of her clients). I’m going to have to clean my own house. There is no way around it.
So, I give myself a stern talking to. “Suck it up girlfriend, surely you can clean your own toilets” I say to myself. And off I go.
I find something to clean the toilets with (of course I have no toilet cleaner as the housekeeper brings her own cleaning supplies) and clean them thoroughly, including using an old toothbrush on the stubborn parts. I congratulate myself on my excellent work. I’m doing a better job than the housekeeper I say to myself, with a hint of smugness.
On to the bathroom sinks. The faucets are a bit rusted, and I attack them with the old toothbrush and Bar Keepers Friend cleaner (left over from when Richard lived downstairs). The faucets have never looked better. I’m sure I’ll make it through the pandemic.
I clean all the mirrors and dust the art. They look great! Carpets vacuumed. Can’t wait to get my cork floors.
Later that night I vow to take extra good care of my teeth, as I will miss my quarterly cleaning as all dentists are closed too. It would be bad to re-emerge from this without all my teeth (I have a long history of periodontal problems). So, I brush my teeth with enthusiasm and commitment. I do a great job.
As I move to place my toothbrush in its proper place, I discover my toothbrush is where it was supposed to be and that I have just brushed my teeth with the toilet toothbrush!!! OMG, panic sets in. I doubt I will die from Covid-19 from the toilet toothbrush but could likely die of something equally terrible. Re-brushing with the proper toothbrush, gargling with copious amounts of mouthwash, using the water pik with hydrogen peroxide. OMG this is terrible.
The next day I wake up with a psychosomatic sore throat. It takes half the day with vitamins, more toothbrushing, mouthwash and ibuprofen until my symptoms subside. I feel grateful to have dodged the bullet of a humbling death this one time.
But I can only conclude that housekeeping is bad for my health and could even kill me. It will be banned from my repertoire the first moment possible. And I’ll rejoice the day the salad bar is back too.
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