When you’re struck by the cleaning bug

I started to do some cleaning last weekend. You could have called it spring cleaning, although the weather outside suggested otherwise.

I’m not the best when it comes to cleaning. My problem is I have a very difficult time parting with things.

And so in cleaning out one room I basically filled boxes with items that I don’t want and never intend to use again.

And then I neatly stacked these boxes on shelves in a storage room we have in our basement.

Maybe cleaning isn’t the right word for what I do.

Maybe it’s more of a case of putting off the inevitable – actually dealing with the stuff I don’t want and never intend to use again.

But what’s that saying? Out of sight, out of mind.

As I was “cleaning” it reminded me of a time many years ago when my sons, both much younger, were suddenly hit with the cleaning bug.

Their purpose was more straight forward, however. They were doing it for the money.

The youngest had decided, if I recall, that he wanted to have a Nintendo DS gaming unit. I wasn’t opposed to him having one, but I was opposed to me buying him one in the middle of summer.

I had told him I’d buy him one for Christmas. He wanted one sooner so he was saving his money.

We were in the living room one day when he suddenly sprang off his chair, grabbed a Kleenex and wiped the dust off the television. Then he turned to me and said, “That will be $5.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For washing the TV,” he said. Uh-huh.

We then struck an agreement that if he did at least three chores a week I’d give him an allowance of $5.

Judging by the mess in his room lately, apparently that agreement expired years ago.

But all those years ago, when his eye was on the prize, it was a different story. And his brother wanted in on the financial action too.

I remember one day the oldest – who was 10 – volunteered to vacuum. I’d never seen anyone so happy to be vacuuming. He was smiling and giggling the entire time. I don’t even think Mary Poppins was ever that happy.

While my attention was turned to Mr. Poppins, the youngest, who was 6, shouted from the kitchen that he was washing the counters. I went in the kitchen to see him crawling across the counter on his hands and knees with a wet facecloth.

I didn’t seem like he was really grasping the cleaning concept.

While I cleaned up after him, he shouted from the hall that he was now “washing the walls.” I rushed over to see him swiping a dripping wet facecloth across the paint. The water was leaving streak marks. The carpet was drenched.

I went into his room and saw a pile of toys that he “cleaned” by moving them from the coffee table to his bed.

“Do you think that’s better?” I asked him.

“It’s better than nothing,” he suggested.

“I think you’ve done enough cleaning for tonight,” I told him. “Thanks for all your help.” He extended his hand. I glanced upwards for that cloud that money falls out of.

Meanwhile Mr. Poppins had finished vacuuming and was asking for another job. I ask him what he was saving his money to buy.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just want money.”

At that stage I wasn’t sure which they’d do first – clean me out of my house or clean me out of my wallet.

Maybe that’s why I just stick everything in a box and shelve it when I’m cleaning.

It’s cheaper.