I was recently chatting with a friend about the timeless question: how do you keep a house clean when it’s filled with small children? Lately, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that an immaculate house is more of an elusive goal than a practical one. Reaching for the stars, if you will.
Until we can afford an “Alice” to clean up after us before we have time to make a new mess, it’s just not going to happen. It’s like shoveling the driveway while it’s still snowing.
But my wise friend shared with me her “Disneyland Theory.” You know how at closing time the park is besieged by over 600 custodians, gardeners, painters and decorators? They do everything from diving down to the depths of the Jungle Cruise to scour the bottom for loose change and trash, to scraping gum off of the streets, to making sure all those lush hedges are sculpted into cute little furry animals.
This is all clandestinely done under huge, portable flood lights, 365 nights a year, and according to a recent report in the LA Times, Disneyland allots most of the park’s budget to this covert night shift.
As a result, every morning thousands of people simply cannot wait to their spend good, hard earned money to roam around those 85 pristine acres. That’s why they get to call it “the happiest place on earth.” It’s that clean.
So no wonder all my attempts at cleaning the house in broad daylight have been fruitless and futile! I’ve only been cleaning this here park when it’s open! When the mess makers are awake and right on my heels! Of course I can never get ahead. How foolish I’ve been. I used to think the only way to keep a clean house was to get a maid. Now I see my mission is clear. I don’t just need a maid.
I need an entire night shift.