Scoop – Clean Sweep
Hold the presses.
No, wait. Is it ‘hold the presses‘, or ‘stop the presses‘? ‘Hold‘ soulds cooler, but I’m wondering if it isn’t a bit ambiguous. But then again, I don’t suppose many people would read that and go grab a hold of the machines. That would be stupid. But in the interest of clarity, I think I’ll sacrifice a bit on the semantics and go with ‘stop‘.
Stop the presses! Cease and desist. I’ve got news for you. Important one. Frontpage stuff. What? Ok, well, it’s not as big as an ongoing recession. I suppose you can give the frontpage to that, if you insist. Eh? Well, yeah, now that you mention it, the Satyam fiasco seems to be too recent to push back… It’s always news when rich corporates trade in morality for stock options, particularly when they manage to keep it under the radar for so long. So ok, that can go ahead as well. Watsat? The ongoing probe on the terrorist attack in Mumbai? I… Ok, ok. fine. So my news tidbit isn’t exactly frontpage material. So I’m extremely sorry if you actually went ahead and stopped the presses on my account.
Now you’ve gone and taken the fun all out of it. I guess it’s my fault. I built the hype a bit too much, perhaps. And now you’re expecting something colossal. I have no one but myself to blame. If only there was a method of going back in time and stopping me from typing everything upto now. Or SOME way to erase what I’ve typed. Well, time travel is impossible. So I guess I have no choice but to grin and bear it.
Anyway… here’s the news… Yesterday… I cleaned my room. Yes, I did. Well, WE did – me and my brother, Lewin. And I’m not talking about the kind of cleaning we usually do, which is to nudge the trash on the floor to clear a pathway to the bed. We actually picked up the trash, put them in separate bags, and disposed of it in a proper junkyard outside of our apartment. This was historic.
Some of you are going “Huh? He cleaned his room? Big deal“, and to those condescending nimrods, I say – Yeah! It IS a big deal. If you had ever seen the inside of my room, you wouldn’t have asked such an ill conceived question in the first place. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve moved in to this place, and none of my friends who had dared to visit my humble abode have stayed on for over half an hour. General reaction of wandering guests have been to rush to the nearest hospital and demand tetanus shots. So one day, we decided enough was enough; we gave up inviting friends over. This was, of course, the rational solution, and I was able to convince Lewin about the sound logic behind the act, but alas, he somehow broke away from my.. from THE logical stream of thought. And sort of overnight, he became a dreamer. He began to see radical dreams of spotless floors, a suburban utopia where laundry is no longer a bimonthly affair; a world of tidy living rooms, neatly made beds, and, dare I say it, even clean kitchens. He even began to question my logic that leftovers are MEANT to be left over on the floor.
It’s not that I was against this… Not at all. I am not, as some people have viciously chosen to brand me, a slob. I do NOT oppose cleanliness. No, no no. I have to point this out cos this is one of those outlandish stereotypes that has plagued bachelors the world over. We bachelors don’t live like pigs because we LIKE the mess. We merely protest at the work that goes into cleaning up.
That’s why, I had, with the aid of clever excuses like headaches, nausea, tiredness, and cardiac arrest, been able to postpone the cleanup job for a long time, but eventually, he even saw through them. I guess it was my cardiac arrest excuse that did it. In retrospect, I should have at least shown the foresight to clutch my chest or something. But in any case, the cover was blown, and the cleanup job was inevitable. I tried my best. I tried to weasel out by doing the usual pathway-clearing exercise, but Lewin was being adamant about it. So we picked up ALL the stuff from our room, including the bed, and moved them all to the living room. And armed with a broom, we started sweeping the area clean. The broom had a happy life till now, you know… Slacking off in the corner, carefree in the belief that it will always have a cushy job. I bet it isn’t so happy now. That broom swept more dirt yesterday than your average broom does in a lifetime.
And just when I was about to call it a year and slump off on the couch with a glass of apple juice in tow, there’s Lewin, coming with a bucket of soap water. I’m telling you – he was a man on a mission. He refused to listen to my wails of protest (all of which were based on sound logic – I just don’t remember what they were right now). So we went at it again. Put soap on the floor, played our own version of mini-water sport on the soapy, slippery floor, where I almost fell and pulled a muscle – I’m telling you, cleaning is dangerous. We balanced ourselves on the slippery slippery dock and finished the ordeal in another hour or so.
But in the end, I guess it was all worth it. We found out a lot of things we didn’t know about. We found out that candy left open is not something you’d like to look at. We found a few old books that we thought we’d thrown away. We found that old batteries left unattended can leak enough acid to burn a hole through a shoe… And we found that our marble floor – get this – is actually white in color! So all in all, it’s been pretty educational. And that’s not the sole benefit either. Think aesthetics. It definitely feels great to step into our bedroom and finding the place spotless, neat and tidy… Of course, now the living room is pretty crowded with all the junk we moved there. I don’t think I want to go there anytime soon.