Sometimes my husband calls me “Bubbles.” That’s as in “Scrubbing Bubbles.” The man is actually married to someone who gets a great deal of satisfaction from cleaning bathrooms.

Whenever Mom-in-law comes to visit, she’s always complimentary about how clean and well-kept our place is. One thing I’ve noticed is that neat will often give the casual observer the same impression as clean, but as far as I’m concerned they’re not the same thing.

Like many working couples, we tend to save cleaning for the weekends, when we have more time to deal with it. Since we live in an apartment, things are easier in one respect – we just have interior stuff to deal with, and yard work isn’t an issue. We try to keep up with what I refer to as “policing” (because I can’t stand the word “decluttering”) at least a few times a week; clearing off surfaces and putting things away, wiping down counters and sinks – that sort of thing. We are fortunate to have a washer and dryer in our apartment, so it’s convenient to do laundry any time, and one way or another it seems that we’re in some stage of laundry-doing every other day (stuff in the washer to be moved to the dryer, stuff to be removed from the dryer and sorted, stuff to be put away) – and bless his heart, Tall Paul does most of it. He feels responsible for the kids’ laundry (I guess that’s since they’re his kids), he likes to wash his shirts by themselves, and he’s actually willing to iron. Dishes don’t sit around – we use them, we wash them (or put them in the dishwasher, and run that when it gets full). But serious cleaning is an item for the weekend to-do list, and when it doesn’t get done for more than a couple of weekends, I get restless.

We had two consecutive weekends in October when we weren’t around much, and “policing” wasn’t cutting it for me any more – the “list” for the first weekend in November was filling up, but cleaning needed to get on it, and it was not an optional activity.

Tall Paul and I divide the household chores between us – maybe not 50-50, but neither of us feels overburdened – and that works out pretty well when it comes to cleaning, since we’re both irritated by different things. He doesn’t like dust, so vacuuming and dusting are his tasks. I don’t like gummy sinks or sticky counters, so the bathrooms and kitchens are my territory.

I find cleaning those rooms to be more of an exercise in “pure” cleaning, since there’s not usually much clutter to be sorted and removed first, especially not in the bathroom – we keep it pretty organized in there. I just come in with my supplies and get to the spraying, sponging, scrubbing, and mopping. It’s the best kind of mindless task, in that it keeps me moving and physically engaged. And it provides prompt feedback – soap traces rinsed away, spots removed from mirrors, countertops shiny and not sticky – and evidence of accomplishment.

Getting my “serious” cleaning done gives me a sense of well-being, and of feeling settled, that has a positive carry-over into my general attitude.

On Sunday afternoon, Tall Paul answered a phone call from my sister, and I guess she must have asked him what I was doing – he said, “She’s scrubbing the kitchen sink, and she cleaned bathrooms yesterday. She’s feeling much better.” He wasn’t entirely joking. The satisfaction of my clean house will probably stick around for at least another week or so – and then I’ll need another fix. But knowing this task is done for the time being, and seeing the results when I look around my house, does make me feel that I’ve started the week in a better place.

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