Cleaning is [not always] a Dirty Word

Yup, it's that time of year again. Hanging on to Purim memories doesn't get rid of the fact that Pesach is coming. Why is it that two holidays, both starting with P, garner such different reactions from us? It's not that there is no work involved in making Purim--there is. But somehow, when putting one day of festivities up against the 8 days of Pesach, those responsible for bringing in Pesach find themselves with extreme cases of the kvetchies. Mentioning the P word brings on heart tremors and the beginning of a month-long migraine. I'll venture to say that it is not the thought of cooking for 8 days that causes the major reaction: after all, Sukkos also lasts those 8 days and we don't see communal terror then. Okay, there is more shopping to be done, but still not enough to cause massive panic. So what is it that is giving us the willies? In a word--CLEANING!!!! Now let's be realistic here: cleaning is something that takes place all year long. I know of no one (thankfully) who only cleans their kitchen/bathroom/every other room only once a year. In truth, we all end up cleaning something in our homes every day. No one packs up their cleaning supplies with the Pesach dishes and only brings them out once a year. So why is this cleaning different from all other cleanings from a whole year? Truth time: it's different because we make it different, not because of any halacha that says it's different. Eleven months a year we live guilt-free about the condition of the bottom of a closet that is tucked away in a corner of the house. Eleven months we spend guilt free about the condition of all those hidden nooks and crannies throughout the house. Eleven months we take our time and do what we can when we can when it comes to "extra" cleaning. And then comes the month before Pesach. Suddenly we become frenetic. A neighbor spends the day after Purim turning the pockets inside out of every coat and jacket in the house. She washes everything that is machine washable and sends the rest to the cleaners. All this in the name of Pesach. Another friend moves every single appliance out from its place and washes and vacuums the area behind it. When I asked, just out of curiosity, if she had ever found any chometz behind her dryer or washer, she curtly answered that that was not the point: that chometz COULD have been there. I don't exempt myself from this madness. As I mentioned before, I wash the kitchen ceiling before Pesach. I refuse to believe that there is some genetic time bomb in frum people that is programmed to go off in the month before Pesach, so what is it that turns us into cleaning machines for Pesach? Yes, I've heard of Spring Cleaning Fever, and lots of women who are not frum catch that bug. But apparently we frummies get that disease differently from others. Last time I checked, spring lasts for three months. We, however, get a malicious version of the bug that lasts for only one month but is three times as intense. Doctors have opined that we also make the disease and its symptoms much worse than it needs to be. This year I'm trying out a new vaccine that has been developed for the pre-Pesach cleaning madness. The vaccine is posited on a behavior modification approach. According to the manufacturer of the vaccine all that is necessary for light cases is to swallow one dose while staring into a mirror and repeating the word "NO" ten times. The manufacturer recommends that users follow this procedure 4 times a day to start. There is a warning on the label that says under no circumstances should the user, looking into that mirror, suddenly reach for glass cleaner and a shmate and clean the mirror. The researchers who brought us this vaccine also recommend that we practice "list amendment" as part of the treatment. This involves taking your cleaning to do list and a brightly colored pen and striking off one item from the list every four hours. I'm not sure how well this "treatment" is going to work: I'm sitting and reading all the instructions for how to clean less side by side with making and adding to my cleaning lists. I did read one thing though that caught my eye and has been bouncing around my head: a lot of the cleaning we do for Pesach has nothing to do with dirt and everything to do with self-image. It's not enough for us that our homes be hygienic; they have to "sparkle like new." It's not enough that the visible to the eye portions of the house look "clean": for us "clean" refers to the unseen but tended to nonetheless. It has somehow become a matter of pride that we arrive at the Seder night looking and feeling like wrung-out dishrags. And let's be honest here: should we encounter any woman in the weeks before Pesach who looks well rested and unharried we become suspicious of how "kosher" her home is going to be. It's not enough that we have become infected with the cleaning bug: we need everyone else to become so infected as well. My doctor and I have been working out an additional treatment plan. He realizes that eradicating the cleaning bug is not going to be done easily. Right now he has only asked me to take one task and remove it from my list. He only had to administer oxygen to me twice when he told me this. I've spent all day deciding which task to remove, but remove it I did, and I'm so proud of myself. I've decided not to thoroughly clean out my linen closet this year. My doctor beamed when I told him this: "It's a start" he said. On the way home from my treatment I was busy jotting down things to do on my list. The list began "Move the blankets from the bottom of the linen closet to the top shelf." Next was "Check any dish towels that are getting grungy and make shmattes out of them." This was followed by "Rearrange towel shelves now that there is more room." Hey, I'm not fudging on what I told the doctor: moving, checking and rearranging is NOT cleaning! To all of you fellow sufferers of the cleaning bug I can only offer this: we lived through this virus last year--we'll do so again this year. Take heart: this month only seems like it will last forever.