How to fake a clean house?

I had planned it all. It was a one-point agenda: on Friday, I was going to wake up only after the clock made it to the PM hours. Nothing and no one would be allowed to foil my plan. After the hectic week I’d had, I believed I had earned my right to stay in bed and sleep my weekend away.

But just a little after late afternoon, the caffeine gremlin bounced onto  my bed and that was the end of my sleep time. The thought of a full, heavy mug of hot coffee made me jump out of bed with the agility of a trapeze artist and land straight in my kitchen. And then my cell phone began to dance in the hall, its buzz cutting through my afternoon peace like a saw.

A vaguely familiar number and name flashed up on the bright blue screen. Should I take the call or ignore it? What about my time-alone weekend? After some seconds of agonising, the caffeine not having powered my brain, I took the call.
And my world fell part.

A long-lost friend was trying to rediscover me. She was turning into the lane that led to my building but had forgotten my apartment number. Could I remember those wonderful coffee afternoons? The gossip, the laughter, the sheer fun? The last was said in the kind of I-am-so-wanting-to-catch-up-with-you-again tone that you know an inevitability is about to walk into your home. I froze.  I looked at how my house looked – like a twister had dumped its contents all over the place. I refroze. Then  I thawed, found my voice and bleated, “Sure, come on over.”

All I could think of was just how much time I had to make the place look habitable before she rang the bell. Then she called again. “Sorry, but I am looking for parking, OK?”
I relaxed. That would take her 20 minutes, at the very least. (Or forever depending on how a Friday in my neighbourhood went). It took me about 40 minutes on weekdays to
find a parking spot.
Lesson 1: No more assumptions about how housekeeping can wait.
Lesson 2: Always assume that  the unexpected will happen. And  be prepared.

Mentally, I gave myself four minutes to clean each room (Lesson 3: I will never complain that I live in a small apartment again), two minutes to make myself presentable and two minutes for a last-minute check. And so began the operation to get my act together in 20 minutes.

The countdown

20 minutes Made a quick assessment of the degree of damage control required. Collected the mop and bucket, duster, an  all-purpose cleaner spray and  air-freshener.
19 minutes Darted to the bathroom and dumped all the dirty clothes into the washing machine. (Out of sight works great at times like these.)
18 minutes But the laundry bag was still not empty so I grabbed a garbage bag and put the rest of the clothes in it and shoved it under the bed.
17 minutes Ran to the washbasin and quickly scrubbed it clean.
16 minutes Took the mop and in rapid dance movements rid the floor of all assorted debris. Slapped a wet mop in areas I thought were grimier than usual. Took a page of newspaper and scrubbed the bathroom mirror. It looked clean enough to me.
15 minutes Back to the wash room. Drew the shower curtain across the tub and put an array of disorganised toiletries in a bucket and the bucket in the tub, behind the curtain. I hoped she would not want to use the wash room. A grim thought crossed my mind: ‘Do people have a habit of looking behind bath curtains?’ Sprayed the bathroom with an air freshener. Darn. It was empty. I sprayed my favourite perfume all around instead.
14 minutes Next, the kitchen. The sink was stacked with dirty dishes so I just loaded them into the dishwasher. I made sure to close the kitchen door.
13 minutes A quick peek into the fridge and all half eaten cans, open-mouthed baked bean jars and other stuff that usually is for your eyes only went into the garbage bag.
12 minutes Put all the bottles and cans on the kitchen counter inside the fridge and then wiped the counter and sink.
11 minutes Mopped the kitchen  floor and shoved the floor mat under the cooking range. Covered  the cooking range with fresh aluminium foil.
10 minutes Quickly started the coffee machine, but the silly gadget wouldn’t start. Murphy’s Law was obviously in effect. So I sprayed another perfume. (My heart was bleeding by this time).
9 minutes Rushed into the bedroom, collected all the clothes lying everywhere and pushed them under the bed too. (Under the bed was suddenly a very populated place).
8 minutes Making the bed was not an option so I got out my colourful embroidered heirloom bed spread and it worked like a charm. My grandmother knew me alright. I ensured the wardrobe doors were firmly shut.
7 minutes Drew the bedroom curtains. Piled all the cosmetics  on the vanity counter into an oversized trinket box and – voilà! – it looked good.
6 minutes Ran into the living room to take a quick look. Books, magazines and newspapers were all gathered, dumped into another garbage bag and stuffed – yes, again – under the bed.
5 minutes Collected all the CDs covers and the discs separated days ago and never reunited and pushed them into every possible drawer in the living room. Some day soon I would be encouraging backache as I sat for hours and matched the pairs, but for now that thought did not concern me too much.
4 minutes Dusted the side board, the TV, the music system and all the other knick-knacks.
3 minutes Plumped the sofa and chairs and adjusted all the cushions. Surprise! One of them had a stain on it.
2 minutes The floor was very dirty but there was no time to clean it.  I quickly spread a rug over it and swept everything underneath.
1 minute Looked at myself in the mirror. Didn’t like what I saw. With soap on my face and my hair  in a pony tail I opened the door to greet my long-lost friend.

Before I could go wash my face and say make yourself at home, she stood at the doorstep grinning like a cartoon creature and said, “Sweetie, I’m sorry but I’ve gotta go. My son scraped his knee while playing in the park.
“Take a rain check on coffee? Please?” With another ‘sorry’ and an air kiss, she vanished and the soap began to sting my eyes. I know the tears came but whether it was out  of sheer frustration or due to the  soap, I can’t say.

Eventually, I put the kibosh on the hyperventilation and told myself this would be last time I’d be caught living in a cluttered twilight zone. Friends may come and friends may go but my home would be a haven of order and harmony. I returned to the kitchen, and you guessed it, the coffee machine came alive. I sat on my sofa with
a steaming mug of coffee that late Friday afternoon and decided I would learn from an expert the quick, everyday minutes you need to spend to keep your house orderly at all times.
Dubai-based interior specialist Indu Varanasi came to my rescue: “There are lessons to be learnt here. The 20 minutes of speed-cleaning gave you the illusion of a clean house and a whole lot of stress. Were you to spend 20 minutes every day on cleaning, you would have a house that’s ready to entertain unexpected guests at all times. However, if you want to keep your home thoroughly clean, more time and effort needs to be put in,” she says.
“Do a brief survey of the room. Then look at your
average weekly schedule at work and at home and squeeze in some time every single day, no matter how busy your day has been.
“You may break up chores within chores: when the washing machine is loaded and running, tackle stacking the books away; when the baking is being done, rearrange or restore order
to your pantry section.”