A Slight Reversal of Gender Roles

You know what the best thing about being married is, at least in my case?

Well yeah, that too. But I was actually referring to the fact that Luke is an absolute cleaning nut. He loves to clean. Scrubbing, moping, sweeping, wiping, he does it all. Except the dishes. We have an arrangement - he cleans the bathroom, I do the dishes, and we'll split the rest of the chores. But when it comes to heavy duty cleaning, he loves doing it. In fact, right now he's doing a major spring cleaning of our new apartment. You see, when Luke moved from Tremonton to Logan back in January, he bought a spring semester contract that some kid was selling, and got four months of rent for, essentially, $150 a month. Score!! But that contract is up tomorrow, and for us to sign a new one we had to do a month to month lease. The apartment we were in was on the top floor, and townhouse style. And $50 a month more than the first two floors, which are only one level. I didn't quite get the reason for the difference, because all the apartments are 2/1's, and I thought, if anything, the top apartments should be cheaper because not only to you have to haul all your crap (and yourself at the end of a long day) up six flights of stairs to get to your apartment, to get to the bedroom or bathroom you have to go up even more stairs. I remember that as the biggest pain in the butt my freshman year of college, when I was also on the top floor. But that might have had more to do with the fact that I had no car, so I spent all day walking. And the fact that those dorms were really old and CRAPPY. But I digress. Anyway, it turns out that the lower apartments have, essentially, no kitchen. No, seriously. We traded a small, but manageable bathroom and a positively spacious kitchen with even a little more cupboard space than we needed for a bathroom twice as big - and really bigger than we need - and a kitchen that only has room for one person at a time. I kid you not. I think it's about 8 inches wide . . . maybe less. And cupboard space? Forget it! Right now half our stuff is still piled on the counter (which is pretty good sized) and dining table because . . . well, partly because after hauling everything downstairs today I was rather tired and didn't want to do anymore . . . but also because I have no idea where I'm going to put things because our cupboard space has been more than cut in half. Blargh. Happily though, my awesome husband (still not quite used to saying that!) brought me a make-shift pantry home from work. Okay, so it's actually just some shelves that we put in one of two living room closets, but it works. And seriously, TWO closets in the living room? What's up with that? Forget the closets and give me a kitchen I can turn around in without having to sidle out of it! I'll definitely have to post pictures soon.

Anyway, back to the cleaning. As I mentioned, Luke loves cleaning. Honestly, as long as I agreed to do the dishes, I don't think I'd have to do anything else for the rest of my life. And on one level, I could totally roll with that. On the other hand, sometimes I find myself bored and wanting to rearrange and clean rooms. So I imagine I'll be doing my share of cleaning. But if there's one thing I absolutely loathe . . . other than tourons . . . it's deep cleaning. Cleaning things that haven't been cleaned in years . . . if ever. You know the stuff. Behind the fridge. Under the stove. Scary places like that. But for the last three hours or so, that's just what Luke's been doing. And even though I haven't really seen anything, I've been grossed out, and slightly terrified for his life, because I keep hearing these noises coming from the kitchen. Things like "ewww, disgusting" and "oh my . . . ick" and challenges and threats directed at the grease and gunk. Those last are really the most disturbing because, sure, everybody talks to inanimate objects every now and again, but challenging decades old grime to a duel of honor where the weapons are 409 cleaner and a big bucket of soapy water? Either I'm in way over my head, or the toxic cleaning fumes are getting to him. I have the distinct feeling that either way, I should be worried. And on top of just the general nastiness of it all is the fact that the girls who used to live here were (and probably still are) Indian. As in from India, not "the peoples indiginous to North America." So, they of course cooked with curry. I'm not particularly familiar with curry, but apparently it's pretty slimy and sticky. And nasty to clean off the side of ovens. And refrigerators. And counters. Luke, in describing the nasty scene I was content not to see, called them "range boogers," saying it was like the stove wiped its boogers on . . . well, pretty much everything. And then they dried. Eww. So I've kept to the living room, protecting my virgin eyes from the horrors of a college apartment kitchen. Because I know every other place I've lived for the last seven years has been just as nasty. Again, eww. I would almost rather have just left this place the way it was and pretend it was clean just like my first run-down on-campus place. Or the totally ghetto place I just left in Florida.. They were filthy. I'm sure they were. But no one ever pulled out the appliances to clean behind them, so we could all happily pretend it was pretty and spotless underneath them. That's my version of cleaning - if you can't see it, then it must be clean. Of course, when the sludge starts oozing out from underneath the stove, it's probably time to pull it out and wipe down the floor. Or replace it, as the case may be.