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A short story about cleaning the house

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A short story about cleaning the house

Please clean the house. That is my task, the single command she gave me before she left for work a Lahey Hospital. That was 3 hours ago, and so far, my efforts are – how should say this, Unsuccessful.

Please understand, I have 2 1/2  bathrooms to clean, each exist for each corner of the house and the basement. Every single tile has to be scrubbed of dirt, down to the tiniest speck. Three toilets of every bathroom room needs to shine pristine hue of white.

I’m dreading the thought of doing this. With a big “sigh” I moved off the couch and started the process of removing the soap scum from the bathtubs

I placed both toothbrushes, razor, various brands of hair gel, comb, shaving cream, shampoos, and soap bars are all placed in the precise spots they belong, the exact right cabinet on the exact right shelf. I used my rigid arms to ensure each item was not a single millimeter ajar of its correct spot.

When I finished with the bathrooms, I moved on to the laundry room. The process of cleaning was nearly identical to the bathroom. I utilized the same tools and left every belonging in the room in its perfectly correct location. When I began work on the living room, however, a unique step wars required: The vacuum cleaner. I brought the powerful vacuum across every metric inch of the carpet, extending it under his couch and armchair, never missing a single spot. 

Each task so far was done as quickly and efficiently as possible .The bedroom is my next target, but something has gone wrong. The energy that had kept me running on nonstop that day is now nonexistent. I am depleted.

Must continue.

Must finish.

Wall to wall, end to end, inch by inch, the house must be clean.

End of the day

I hear her car pulling up into the driveway

She enters the house, she asks, “Were you able to clean the house?” My gut tightens as I burst out laughing. She starts to take her denim coat off and I move in to help. Our eyes meet. I see a pair of rich brown irises under her dark bangs. She smiles at me and I feel warm. God, I want to kiss her right now. I bring her coat into the kitchen and get out a wine bottle.

She goes upstairs to wash up. “Um,, what is this?” I hear her call from the master bedroom.

 I go upstairs to the master bedroom. I find her crouched down by a little robot sitting on the floor. “What is this?”

“Oh, that’s the robot vacuum cleaner, I use to tidy the place. KT series. Model 3,” I explain. Shut up dude! You’re sounding like a nerd.

“I think the battery is dead,” she says looking over it. I crouch down with her and check the icon on the bulky batteries side. Typically, there would be a glowing green icon, but right now it’s a dim orange light. I forgot to charge it this morning…again. I remove the dead battery from the robo cleaner and put it on my dresser. I find a spare battery.

“Sorry, about that little guy,” I say to the robot vacuum, plugging the new battery in, “There we go, all better.” The light powers on and the little robo returns to life. Its sensor comes to life and it looks around the room. Without hesitation it returns to vacuuming.

“You talk to the robo vacuum cleaner?” She asks.

I laugh her off. She’s right, it’s weird the way I talk to robo vacuum. As if they could think like me. A strange thought. Yet, I can’t help but wonder as I watch the robo vacuum roll back and forth across the floor. “You’re doing a good job” I can’t help saying to the robo cleaner.

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