an ode to the powerwasher
I don't know if I only speak for myself here, but I love cleaning supplies. Actually, I love all kinds of supplies, especially art, especially when I can use someone else's money to get them, but I digress. Cleaning supplies, yes. Those commercials where the scrubber carves a gleaming swath of cleanliness through an impossible layer of dirt...my heart beats faster: is it possible? Can perfection be attained in this life?
Well, no. But it just looks so nice, so satisfying and complete. It holds up a standard to the uber perfectionists out there, who look for the star-shaped twinkles on each corner of bathroom tile, the mirror-clean surface reflecting your beaming face. But in all likelihood, you probably won't let your own home descend to the amount of filth where the path of a cleaning product will be very noticeable. If you do, you'll be so depressed by your own squalor that the cleaning product's results will be a shameful indictment of your housekeeping skills.
My own cleaning habits fall in the latter category most of the time, unless they involve things that would cause me public shame (laundry, personal hygeine, etc). The house gets cleaned when many people will be coming, which is why I enjoy giving parties often. Once in a very great while, in an absolute fit of activity, I will clean something that no one cares about or sees.
A's closet, for one, just got a thorough purging, with all of his baby clothes packed and sorted for some other mommy to unfold, wrestle a baby into, and take off immediately after the fifth blowout of the day. The hall closet also got some attention, though I didn't have the heart to figure out whether all the loose light bulbs actually fit any of our lights. And then yesterday, it was my pleasure to use our powerwasher (yes, we do have one, which we share with my father-in-law) to clean the 10 years of green filth off the deck.
(A, 2 years ago, on our filthy deck)
(a's 3rd birthday party)
The powerwasher is loud, has a five-horsepower engine that runs on gasoline, and is so powerful with a certain attachment, that you could carve your name into concrete with it (where's Tim Allen to make the man-grunt: "huh huh huhhhh. More POWER!"). It was quite diverting, mindless, soothing work. Now our deck looks nearly new, though a tad splintered in some areas where I was overzealous, but in a day or two it will be ready to seal and hopefully give years more use to us. Seeing the green stuff--moss? mold? dirt?--get blasted to bits was terribly exciting. Next I'll do the shed and the rest of the fence, once we get some more gas.
brilliant. If you zoom in a bit, you'll see where I had to stop the cleaning where my clematis is growing. I planted that about 5 years ago, with a gorgeous climbing rose, and they both have done so well on the trellis.
Well, no. But it just looks so nice, so satisfying and complete. It holds up a standard to the uber perfectionists out there, who look for the star-shaped twinkles on each corner of bathroom tile, the mirror-clean surface reflecting your beaming face. But in all likelihood, you probably won't let your own home descend to the amount of filth where the path of a cleaning product will be very noticeable. If you do, you'll be so depressed by your own squalor that the cleaning product's results will be a shameful indictment of your housekeeping skills.
My own cleaning habits fall in the latter category most of the time, unless they involve things that would cause me public shame (laundry, personal hygeine, etc). The house gets cleaned when many people will be coming, which is why I enjoy giving parties often. Once in a very great while, in an absolute fit of activity, I will clean something that no one cares about or sees.
A's closet, for one, just got a thorough purging, with all of his baby clothes packed and sorted for some other mommy to unfold, wrestle a baby into, and take off immediately after the fifth blowout of the day. The hall closet also got some attention, though I didn't have the heart to figure out whether all the loose light bulbs actually fit any of our lights. And then yesterday, it was my pleasure to use our powerwasher (yes, we do have one, which we share with my father-in-law) to clean the 10 years of green filth off the deck.
(A, 2 years ago, on our filthy deck)
(a's 3rd birthday party)The powerwasher is loud, has a five-horsepower engine that runs on gasoline, and is so powerful with a certain attachment, that you could carve your name into concrete with it (where's Tim Allen to make the man-grunt: "huh huh huhhhh. More POWER!"). It was quite diverting, mindless, soothing work. Now our deck looks nearly new, though a tad splintered in some areas where I was overzealous, but in a day or two it will be ready to seal and hopefully give years more use to us. Seeing the green stuff--moss? mold? dirt?--get blasted to bits was terribly exciting. Next I'll do the shed and the rest of the fence, once we get some more gas.
brilliant. If you zoom in a bit, you'll see where I had to stop the cleaning where my clematis is growing. I planted that about 5 years ago, with a gorgeous climbing rose, and they both have done so well on the trellis.
1 Comments:
It looks positively mahvelous! Are you planning a cookout for July 4th? Remember last year? when A stuck the lightstick into D's ear? Oi!
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