House Cleaning Tips for the Temporary Male Care Taker

It is not unusual these days for some of us to have to step in and fulfil duties that our better halves would rather manage. When the wife is out of commission due to surgery or injury, for instance.

Previously Robin banned me from washing clothes, because she doesn't think it proper to simply toss in arm-loads of colored, white, cashmere, three-hundred dollar suits, and a cup of powdered soap before twisting the thing to "on" and walking away. What's the point of having an "Automatic" clothes washing machine if you have to do all that sorting and reading of fabric care labels first?

That incident, and several others, have succeeded in relieving me of any interior household chores that involve appliances other than the vacuum cleaner.

However, your humble author, finally resigned himself to lashing on an apron and prancing about the abode with a feather duster today.

But enough about my recreational activities. This article is about the need to clean house during my sweet wife's convalescence due to an extensive ankle surgery. Since she cannot move about the place very well with a full cast from knee to toes, and doctor's orders are to stay prone with it elevated, the duties of banishing dust bunnies, discarding wrapping paper, cleaning dishes, and vacuuming the floors have fallen to me. It cannot be done as well as Robin could do it were she on her feet, but I try, bless my heart.

I thought perhaps we might have enough dishes to last for the twelve weeks of her recovery, but alas, it was a matter of three days and I was forced to either buy paper plates, borrow cutlery and platters from the neighbors, or do the dishes.

With my motorcycle in the shop being overhauled, I couldn't just ride off for a bit and ponder the situation. I was stuck in a house that would soon be suitable for gardening if one more layer of dirt accumulated on the floor. Robin had been puttering about for days, making a pitiful attempt to dust with a telescoping swiffer dust tool as she rode her scooter from the bedroom to the kitchen and back.

Resigned to fate, I began to clean, as only a 44 year old "biker" can do. I piled as many dishes as would fit into the dish washer. Most of the others I gave a cursory scrubbing and rinse by hand and piled on the counter to air-dry.

One of the pans was still partially filled with a dull reddish brown concrete that used to be spaghetti sauce. I put it in the garbage disposal side of the sink and turned the hot water on. Applying scientific reasoning to the situation, I figured if water could carve out the Grand Canyon, water could wash away that petrified Italian gravy. I only needed to let it run long enough.

In case you don't know (as I didn't), the proper configuration for a garbage disposal drain that includes an inlet from a dish washer is to attach the dish washer drain hose to the upper inlet of the garbage disposal.

I don't know why this is the proper configuration, but it is. Check the manual for your own garbage disposal if you don't believe me. The reason why I say I don't know why this is proper is because it is a recipe for disaster if a grumpy old Triumph rider decides to put a pan full of crusty food in that side of the sink and leave the water running while the disposal is off.

True to the legacy of carving vast canyons and valleys into the earth, the rushing hot water softened and broke up the hearty red sauce and spicy Italian sausage. Clumps of the stuff floated free and battered their way down into the silent garbage disposal.

As those red chunks of sauce piled up inside the disposal, they quickly clogged the drain. The water rushing in from the faucet continued to run, oblivious to the marvellous disaster it was about to create. The level climbed until it reached that little inlet that the hose connected to the drain on the dishwasher; then it began to rush down that hose into the waiting vast steel enclosure that is our dishwasher.

In retrospect, I think a five dollar anti-back-flow valve installed on the drain hose would be a capital idea.

Our dish washing machine isn't top of the line, like a Viking, but it is a fairly good quality KitchenAid model with a stainless steel interior and an excellent seal around the door. You could fill our dishwasher up with water and it would take 20 or 30 gallons before it created enough pressure for water to start seeping out around that door seal.

I filled her up with about forty gallons.

During the time that the doomsday event was percolating in our kitchen drainage complex, I was happily sitting at my computer writing one of my weekly columns. I had told Robin I was dusting and vacuuming the office; which meant I blew the dust off my keyboard and turned on the vacuum cleaner every few minutes when I stopped to think of something clever or funny to include in the column.

After a while I finally rememberd I had left the water running, and rushed back to the kitchen to turn it off, thinking how horrible it would be that I would have an extra dollar or two on this month's water bill.

I was shocked to see a puddle of water on the floor, seeping at an increasing rate out from the bottom of the cabinetry encasing the sink and dishwasher. I began to curse the plumbers who had installed the original drainage pipes in our house (having momentarily forgotten that I myself had replaced it all a year ago). Assuming the cause was a leak around one of the p-trap joints below the garbage disposal, I threw dirty towels (there were plenty, since I had been letting the laundry pile up for several days in hopes that the linen fairy would take care of it for me) on the expanding puddle and turned off the faucet.

I flung open the door beneath the sink, expecting to see all those bottles of detergent, Ajax, Windex, and other chemical products (which we keep well within reach of any baby visiting Fort Frazier...note to self: baby proof the kitchen) soaked in the water that should have been steadily drip-drip-dripping from the pipes.

There was none. The exterior of the pipes were, of course, dry as a bone. And why not? I thought, since I had installed them myself and done a quality job.

But even though the faucet was now off the puddle continued to grow beyond the capacity of my pile of dirty laundry.

About that time my visiting daughter, Kelli, walked into the kitchen, bravely approaching despite the continuous profanity coming from the vicinity of my mouth and the anguished pounding of my fist upon the counter.

"Dad, it's coming from the dishwasher." She said, pointing to the steady trickles of water flowing from the bottom corners of the dishwasher door.

"Aha! So it is", said I.

And then I performed the culminating act of stupidity for the day.

I opened the dishwasher door.

So here's the tips:
#1. Install an anti-backflow valve on the diswasher drain hose
#2. Do not leave running water unattended
#3. Hire a maid service