Major Clean Days

When I was younger, we had something in my household known as "Major Clean" days. These were also known as, "Mom Writes Up A List of Chores For Steve And Danielle To Attend To, Which Require At Least Eight Hours Of Devotion, The Results Of Which She Manages To Destroy In A 15-Minute Time Period."

Since my brother and I came from a "broken home," we were only with my mom on 2 weekends out of every month, so you can bet your sweet ass one of those weekends would include at least one full day of indentured servitude ON TOP of what we spent an hour on each day after school.

In my house, you came home from school and the VERY FIRST THING YOU DID was not homework, it was your chores. Homework came second. Maybe you'd find 7 minutes of time to have some fun before dinner, which you were also responsible for cleaning up. My mom did not -and still does not- understand the meaning of "clean as you go." Every time my mom cooks, the food ends up being tremendous, whereas the kitchen ends up looking like an F5 tornado ripped through it. I digress.

We would usually be informed of Major Clean days ahead of time, if Mom was feeling merciful. She'd usually tell us at some point during the week, or maybe Friday night when I'd ask to stay over a girlfriend's house. "Ok, but you have to be home by 10. Tomorrow is a Major Clean day." Sometimes she would wait until the last minute. We wouldn't know it was a major clean day until she'd be busting into our rooms, "Rise and shine! It's a Major Clean day!" You've never seen two kids eat cereal as slowly as we did on those mornings.

Other times, she would invoke Major Clean days as punishment, since Steve and I would invariably end up fighting over which Saturday Morning cartoons to watch, or who would have control of the remote. Steve would never really yell, it would always be me who would lose my temper and blast forth a war cry similar to that employed by Mel Gibson in "Braveheart." It was usually at that point that the shit would hit the fan. "ALRIGHT!! I HAVE. HAD IT. UP. TO. HERE. WITH THIS BULLSHIT. GET YOUR LAZY ASSES MOOOOOOOVING!!!!! NNNNOOOOOOWWWW." She said all this without moving her jaw. Incredible.

And then Steve and I would set to work cleaning our big house from top to bottom using naught but a toothbrush, napkins, and some good, old-fashioned elbow grease. What I remember most clearly about these times, however, is not just the fact that Steve was ALWAYS DONE BEFORE ME, but that we were permitted to listen to "the stereo", and at whatever volume we wished. Unless my step-dad was still sleeping. Music is very closely tied to these memories of Major Clean days.

There is one Major Clean day that really stands out. We were the only family in the neighborhood that had this crazy stereo set-up. My mom bought these two awesome, real microphones and a dual-cassette player, so we could sing along to anything and hear it through the huge speakers my dad forfeited when he busted out, as well as play it back. After this one particular Major Clean day, my mom popped our "We Are the World" tape in, and we went to TOWN all over that shit! Remember that, Steve? Ah, good times.

So, I can't clean without music. I am cleaning today and I let my iPod battery run completely out, doctor's orders. I now have to let it charge for four hours. This means that I will be subjected to the dysfunctional jukebox that is my brain, and I dread whatever instrument of torture it will choose to use against me. Could be Gino Vanelli. I'm praying it skips The Jets, but I think I may have tempted fate by even mentioning them.

"How did you know, cuz I never told...you found out, I've got a crush on you!"

DAMMIT!