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The best woman for the job was a man*

I had become aware, over the last few months, that my Flat had succombed to untidiness.**

In a defiant and unbending effort to get it cleaned up, and in acknowledgement that under no circumstances whatsoever was I ever going to get up close and personal with the Stuff on the floor (It's just too far away, darnit), I decided my only alternative was to ask for help.

Knowing my financial options were desperately limited, I knew I was going to have to ask someone who may start the job for money, but was destined to finish the other 98% out of some sort of pity for the state the place was in and maybe my own general lack of ability in the mobility department.

I made the call. So, after some further muted discussions today was decided upon as the day of destiny for my filthy abode. The door duly opened at the assigned time of three-past-ten in the morning and, after a few final expletives - breathed out in an awed voice as the full extent of the job made itself known to their eyes and nose, the work began in something approaching Silence.

I lay, experiencing a feeling of complete rubbishness, as the silent minister went about his*** work. I dozed, once more awoke in a kind of stupor, and discerned the scream opf a vacuum cleaner at work. More dozing. A female voice. Bathroom fan...light....dark, Fan off. Silence.

More silence.

The flat felt empty.

I risked a chink of door open. No-one around. I risked everything**** and strode out into the hallway. Clean. Handles, clean. Stain on wall, clean. Switches, clean. Kitchen floor CLEAN! Washing up - DONE!!! Kitchen tidied, but not too much. Here was someone who knew how to respect an important mess pile. Lounge, vacuumed, dusted - CLEAN! Important man-piles respected. 

In short, the stuff that needed cleaning and tidying was done, but the important technical stuff had been left alone. I have never seen cleaning done so sensitively to the needs of a man such as me. The place is now a delight to be in, and my heart is full of gratitude. Really full.

I am hopeful that maybe, just maybe, I can tempt this same outfit back to repeat their work before it gets to be so bad again, thus enabling the work to be much more less un-easy.

Now I can look forward to welcoming people to the house group at my flat tonight. Now there's an event I love. :-)

Big thank to person.*****

*As far as I can work out, I didn't actually see anyone.

** This, subject to a definition of "untidiness" which includes large piles of assorted stuff strewn pretty much everywhere, filthy carpets, a hay-strewn guinea-pig and a kitchen which would have caused the entire locality to be cleared by the military had they been aware of the molecular and radiation risk involved.

*** Again, as far as I can ascertain. Infact, I will always call them "he", even though I cannot be absolutely sure. Essentially, it's easier this way and if it wasn't a he then my title becomes completely redundant. Wrong, even.

**** Yes, I mean EVERYTHING. :-)

***** You know who you are. (both?)



This post first appeared on AndyBlog, please read the originial post: here

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The best woman for the job was a man*

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