Confessions of a Cleaning Lady

The House that Liberace Built

The first time I saw this house, I thought "You have GOT to be kidding me".

It was a veritable showpiece in a neighborhood full of showpieces.

On a corner lot, it faces dead on the main drag through the neighborhood. It's pink. Bubblegum stucco. The enormous semi-circle driveway gives the visual impression that you're not looking at a house, but indeed, an exclusive country club. As do the 12 foot high glass and iron front doors. With fleur-de-lis handles. It's quite a spectacle, the only thing missing is a fountain in front of that driveway.

The inside looks like a guest house in Versailles. It's enormous, but not castle enormous. They don't have a lot big enough for that.

Tapestries of half nude bathing ladies blushing as gentlemen in feathered caps entreat them to... well whatever feathered capped dudes want from half naked ladies. You decide for yourself, could be anything really, but judging from the tights and the pantaloons they may want a brunch companion. (No offense to my beloved gay friends, glad none of you wear tights, pantaloons, feathered caps )

A sweeping spiral staircase greets you as you walk through the doors. A library with zebra pelt rugs and leather chairs, leather bound books, and framed art of scowling kings are to the left.

A grand chandelier and a lion footed mahogany table to the right. Lots of glass and porcelain. An impressive and charming gold mantle clock chimes delicately every hour.

Straight ahead is the view of the garden through floor to ceiling windows. Of course thats where the fountain is, again a half nude lady pouring water from a pitcher perched on her shoulder poised gazing blankly at the ground in the middle. Bougainvillas frame the stone patio, yadda yadda. You get the idea.

Really I could go on and on and on about the details of this house because there are so. many. details. Overkill is the word that comes to mind. It's over the top, full stop.

Which is why they need us.

Well, they don't need us actually. Their house is immaculate, but I guess immaculate isn't immaculate enough. They have employed us to do nothing but the floors and dusting alternately the upstairs and the downstairs. No kitchen, no bathrooms, no changing bedding, none of that stuff ordinary people employ a cleaner for.

What's more is that we go once a week. I can get through that whole house with a swiffer duster and it's as clean when I'm done as it was when I started. And that's even with pulling everything out and doing the china cabinets.

Awesome, right? Easy peasy, and we still make about as much as the other houses we have. Only problem is I can't shake the feelings of guilt I get every time we go because without fail I feel like we're taking advantage. It's obvious they've got ridiculous money to throw around, but still.

Only thing is, it actually is a really high maintenance place, kitchens and bathrooms notwithstanding. It really does take us almost as long to clean it as the other houses we've got that are twice the work.

There's just so much stuff. So much, in fact, that I often wonder how the stuff they have contributes to their quality of life because there's no way a single person could take in and enjoy the existence of so many porcelain figurines, photos of french lords and ladies, and stucco pedestals supporting enormous houseplants. (Ok, the houseplants I can get down with...)

They're gone a lot, this couple. They go to europe for months at a time, most often Italy, Greece, France, Spain. All those English speaking friendly, caucasian dominated tourist places.

So what's the point?

It's easy to conjecture what kinds of weird secret things people are into based upon how they live.

This couple is childless by choice, not that that's strange but I think it plays into the lifestyle somewhat- No messy... well, anything.

They're suuuuuuper anal-retentive about their living space, and as far as I can tell, everything else. It's not how it is in most houses, where the dude of the house kinda doesn't give a s***, but the woman of the house really does, so in order to create peace they hire someone else to deal with it.

He is very, very particular about the floors especially.

His huge walk-in closet houses not only an expensive, dorky wardrobe, but a massage table. And a tanning bed. And a poster of a naked woman strategically seated and bent over so you can't actually see her parts while she paints her toenails. The poster is for a company that sells tanning beds, and it's autographed by this woman. I have no idea who she is, but she's pretty f***in' tan, I'll tell you that. So you tell me... does that leave you with kind of a sense of what's up with this guy or is it just me?

I forgot to mention they sleep on separate floors. She has her opulent, luxurious quarters opening out into the garden. His style is fine corinthian leather and cigars. I've often wondered how many arguments they've had over the decoration of this house.

They're really nice. It seems like all of these stupid rich people we clean for are. By stupid rich, I don't mean they're stupid, I mean it's stupid how rich they are. Some are a little more... I dunno... real than others, but all are nice. Some I'm sure are always nice to the "help".

These two are hard to pin down. They're like Ken and Barbie living in this Barbie dream house. It's odd because we even had a discussion about religion once (I don't know how these deep discussions begin with these people, maybe it's the intimacy of having a stranger in your house cleaning your toilets and mopping your floors?) but it was oddly devoid of conviction. They were super interested in what I believe. She got Buddhism confused with Hinduism. "Are they the same thing?" She asked, genuinely unknowingly.

They're Christian, of course, and turns out they go to the same church as my girl Lou. Believe me when I tell you, she's six degrees of separation from anyone white and rich in this town. And eight times out of ten she's cleaning their house when it comes up.

I don't know what passes through the minds of those who dwell in the House of Versailles, but I have a sneaking feeling it's not particularly reflective. I have no doubt they're nice people. I don't think they know why. I'm not sure they know much of anything but how stuff's supposed to look rich and how one acts graciously as duke and dutchess of the manor. I find myself really, really wanting to find out. Lou says that might not be a good idea.