Dirty little secret

There are dust bunnies under my refrigerator.

I say this with confidence because I am sure no one has attempted to move this appliance for any reason, much less to clean beneath it, since we purchased it.

Of course, I clean my house regularly–sort of. But I have never dusted a ceiling fan, vacuumed a sofa, or starched a shirt.

Which is to say that I am a Baby Boomer, and thus my home is not as clean as the one I grew up in. Not by a long shot. When you work outside the home, something has to give. In my case, it’s my standards for cleanliness. I suspect I am not alone among my generation.

I vividly remember a conversation I had when I was a new, working mother with an older friend who’d been a full-time homemaker. Once her kids were in school, I carefully asked, how did she occupy her time during the day? Marilyn said she had tasks routinely scheduled for each day of the week: Monday she did laundry, Tuesday she cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms, Wednesday she dusted and vacuumed, Thursday she cleaned the closets…

Cleaned the closets? I was confused. Did she re-organize her clothes and linens every week?

No, my bemused friend explained. During the 1960s and 70s, every week she removed the contents of each closet in her home and dusted the shelves, vacuumed the floors, and washed the walls. It was part of being a good homemaker.

I thought she was kidding. She was not.

On the one hand, and as a fan of Downton Abbey, I understand the sense of satisfaction and purpose that can come from executing a household task well, no matter how seemingly tedious. I personally have been known to get giddy over a just-mopped kitchen floor or a freshly-weeded flower bed. And don’t get me started on alphabetizing my spices.

However, I take shortcuts. I once hot-glued together a Halloween costume for my then-kindergartener. I snap up no-iron shirts. I only buy serving pieces that go in the dishwasher.

To some, this may constitute cutting corners. For me, it is a matter of survival.

In addition to failing to be as clean as my mother, I doubtless am not as thrifty. I feel guilty every time I buy a bag of pre-washed, pre-cut salad greens, but I still buy it. If a sock has a hole in it, I don’t darn, I replace it. I have had dinner delivered on Doordash. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the value of a dollar. It’s just that in my life, it’s not as big of a debit as a free hour of my day.

Our generations have different demands on our time. Parents today are expected to participate in our children’s educations in ways that were unheard of when we ourselves were in school. The gallop of technology demands that we continually re-invent our professional skill sets. And we will spend years, if not decades, caring for our parents as they age.

Those in The Greatest Generation always thought of Boomers as the “me” generation, raised in affluence, weaned on instant gratification, and somewhat lacking on the side of the ledger that includes paying our dues. In fact, we are just paying those dues later, and in different ways, than our parents did.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I probably should go dust beneath that refrigerator.

Linda S. Haase is Senior Associate Vice President of Marketing Communications at the Jewish United Fund.