I’ve never had to clean a house to live in it. I’ve always been lucky in this regard. I’m most familiar with the “wipe out and wipe down” technique before placing my items, but this house is much more labor intensive.
A lot of it looks clean, like in places most people would look during a showing, but the less visible areas are downright filthy.
Mostly it’s just dust. I truly question whether the lower kitchen cabinet interiors have been cleaned in my lifetime, and I’m not sure how long it takes for trim to grow a layer of black sticky dust, but this is a first for me.
I asked The Mister to use his long and tall to dust the top of the china cabinet for me, and in turn, he handed me a department store catalog from 1990. Whoa.
So, this week has been a seemingly endless circle of cleaning, painting and unpacking.
I feel bad for our house, because it’s been so neglected. The lady who lived there had the house in her family for generations, so much so, it was hard (tears and tissues at closing) for her to let it go, even though she hasn’t been living there for some time. And while we can all feel that it’s been a happy home, it needs some new life breathed into it.
It misses being a home.
We are a perfect fit.