The Cleaning Brigade

For the first time since March 17th, our house is being professionally cleaned this morning. Hermalinda and her crew of two other young women arrived with masks and gloves at the appointed hour. Like cockroaches, we all cleared out of plain sight. My children withdrew to the basement with their breakfasts, I moved upstairs to Brian’s commuting bunker with my Zoom meeting, and he is off on a morning bike ride. If only I had remembered to grab some coffee first. (Listen to me whine!)

It’s not that we couldn’t or didn’t clean the house in the past three months. But we did things piecemeal and somewhat irregularly, never really getting to the bath tubs or the shower. What I love about a cleaning brigade is how they divide, conquer, and leave the entire place in tip-top shape all at once.

When they leave, we step tentatively out of hiding, eyes blinking at the sparkle and shine, noses basking in the lemony-eucalyptus aroma here and the no-nonsense chlorox scent there, ears listening for any last traces of vacuum, buckets or running water to be sure we are not vacating our hidey-holes prematurely. But no, they are really gone and the house is positively pristine!

The first crumbs are always the hardest ones to abide. But by the end of the day our house will begin to look and feel lived in again, and the cleaning brigade will have conquered several more houses in the neighborhood. Money well spent and well earned. Another familiar routine restored, at least for the time being.