Thursday, 30 March 2017

Come clean...

I have a man coming to clean my carpets and sofas next week.  When Reg destroyed the lounge rug several weeks ago, it became apparent that a cleaning session was needed, if at least to make the colour of the carpet the same throughout the room, rather than resembling a map of the Victorian Empire.  

Of course, once you start looking, you start to see other places which could benefit from a bit of a clean, hence the phone call to the carpet cleaner.  He wasn't the first I called to be honest.  I think I worked through six different companies before finding someone who a)called back, b)could fit me in before Christmas 2019 and c)who had the appropriate tool.  Now 'c' is a tricky one, because the tool for cleaning sofas with is not the same as the one for carpets, and is therefore 'specialist equipment'.  One gentleman who started off by saying that he didn't do upholstery because too much could go wrong, finally came clean and admitted that he had run over his attachment in his van and couldn't be arsed to replace it.  

So I got this chap eventually, and he duly turned up to quote this week.  He was a strange bod, and the husband and I decided fairly early on that this man had never benefited from the love of a good woman (or a bad one for that matter).  He was rather unkempt, and his clothes had more wrinkles than my face after a heavy night out.  He also couldn't look me in the eye, preferring to talk to my table runner and vase of wilting daffodils while we were discussing prices.

He seemed to have a thing about grease, and got quite excited when I told him that the carpets hadn't been cleaned for eleven years. Once he had done his measuring (pacing and counting out loud) he told me the price and we agreed on a day.  'What time will you be here?' I asked.  Well, he will be here at 8.30am, and will not leave before 5.00pm as there is 'so much to do'.  Between you and me, I don't call two carpets, three sofas and a rug a lot, but then they are right up there as the dirtiest he's ever seen apparently.  

I've worked the day well though.  I shall drop the dogs off at the hairdressers for a Cut'n'Blow on the day of the big clean, and then take them somewhere far, far away for a very long walk.   With any luck, Mr Single Pringle will be gone, and if the dogs get up on the sofa, well at least they will be clean.

Do you know, I never thought my carpets and rug were that dirty, but when he was telling me that he would be here for eight hours, he added,

'I've never been at a house for that long in the forty five years I've been doing this'.

Well that made me feel a whole lot better, I can tell you...

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