Behind My Door: The ‘Curse’ of cleaning

By Sandra Bernhardt

When I was a young child, women knew that the “Curse” referred to a monthly phenomenon. At the approach of the “Curse,” my mother would say to my father, “Company’s coming.” 

Taking her words literally, I would dash to the front door to welcome the visitors. I couldn’t understand why no one was ever there.

Personally, I have a different take on the “Curse.” To illustrate, I recently ran into a fellow I hadn’t seen in years. As we chatted about our families, I couldn’t help but notice that he kept staring at my chest. That had never happened to me before. 

“That’s an interesting pin on your lapel there,” he said. 

I looked down at my big black button. It said, “Warning! Cleaning causes Cancer.” 

“I’m trying to spread the word,” I told him. “I feel there’s too darn much cleaning and sanitation going on in our nation and in our homes. Eventually, that will kill us all!”

My German aunts — Marvella, Maise and Myrtle — would have fainted to hear my words. On most days, the sisters could be found with a strudel in one hand and a pot of liver dumplings in the other. Kind and thoughtful women, they even wore their aprons to church, should the good Reverend need the wine strained or the bread plumped up. 

When I said I hated to clean, Aunt Marvella clutched at her throat and tilted to the right. I thought I’d killed her. 

That was the day they wrote my name in the family Bible under “Disasters.” 

Frequently, I would ask Ralph to speak in German and ask my aunts to please “speak in English.” I wanted to join in their conversations. Then I learned they were discussing the pros and cons of liquid starch. 

Like all of my aunts, Aunt Bertha waxed the inside of her refrigerator and one could eat off the floor behind the stove. The only time I saw a mouse run through her kitchen, it was carrying a feather duster.

When I was a kid and ordered to clean my room, I would hear, “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” What does that mean, anyway? Was there a bearded guy on high, sweeping the clouds around?

Joan Rivers was a woman after my own heart. She said, “I hate housework! You make the beds, you do the dishes — and six months later you have to start all over again.”

So, after I dust and scrape gum from under the diningroom table, what reward do I get? Sweat, that’s what I get! I have water dripping off my earlobes just buttering a bagel. When people come in unexpectedly and see me standing in a pool, I have to lie: “Just got out of the shower! Next I’ll be heading out to the bakery to buy more bagels!”

I had just one piece of equipment to help me prove I’m not a total loss in the cleaning arena — my wash line.

Every week, I’d go to a Dollar Store and purchase new underwear for my entire family. How I loved hanging up those tidy-whities. They were blinding! Neighbors held their hands over their eyes to stop squinting. Many would go inside to get a hat. It was a rare time I gave in to the “Curse,” and had outsmarted my neighbors!

In truth, I still believe that excessive cleaning causes gallbladders to explode. And, as I’ve said, it may kill us all.

Phyllis Diller saw housework as both irritating and unnecessary. Years ago, she admitted that her oven was so bad she could bake only one cupcake at a time.

A closing note to my faithful readers: Obviously, the “Curse” isn’t going away. So, what should you do? 

I suggest you create a brand-new plan. Until then: Don’t dust the place! Toss those scrub pails! Get yourself a maid or move to Wales!  

For more than 30 years, Fort Atkinson’s Sandra (Sandi) Bernhardt has enjoyed humorous public speaking in Wisconsin and beyond. During her career, she served as a human resources director, as well as a customer service consultant for a healthcare company. Active in the community, Sandy is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater and the mother of three grown sons.