Yes, it is that time of year again. Spring is in the air, the Purim candy has been eaten and Passover is just around the corner. The time of year when my husband asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?” but tunes out to the college basketball game on TV when I answer him. In truth, the answer is always no, because you cannot be a true martyr if you accept the help. The other truth is cleaning for Passover in my house is a game to me, the game being that two hours before Yom Tov begins my husband will open a random drawer or cabinet to see if it is clean. I never know which drawer or cabinet it will be, so I have to be pretty thorough.
The top of our coffee table, which is in the room where he watches college basketball, is glass, so I know to clean that out first because he can see through it. My other secret (which is now not-so-secret) is that I tie a ribbon around the handles of the drawers and cabinets that are not kosher for Passover so all the inhabitants of my home, and invited guests, know what they cannot open. But it doesn’t matter because, without fail, I will be asked (by the previously mentioned husband), “Did you remember to clean the kids’ rooms?” “Did you remember to take the candy wrappers out of jacket pockets?” “Did you remember to empty out any chametz from the drawer where I hide your keys before Shabbos?” I don’t know, did you remember???” (Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth; it is only eight days, 25 meals, 20 pounds of matzoh, 30 boxes of coffee cake mix, eight dozen eggs, 16 pounds of chicken cutlets, 200 meatballs, four California roasts, 10 boxes of Lollycones, and a partridge in a pear tree.) THIS LAST PART DOESN’T JIVE WELL WITH ME, CHRISTIAN…PESACH…NOT RELATED.)
Back to the cleaning; it is very cathartic, but also makes me wonder if I am totally losing my mind (oh wait, I think I have done that already). I found six challah covers. All year long we have been using napkins to cover the challah because I couldn’t find the challah covers that I put away last year. And now that I have found them, I will probably forget where they are when the holiday is over. I found two fans that I couldn’t find when the kids needed them for camp last summer. There they were, right in the cabinet next to the challah covers. Fantastic. On a sweeter note, I found a star chart that I made for son #1. One column was for “try new food”—guess things haven’t changed much because he only had two stars in that column, but 20 stars in the “made a bracha” column. What was he making brachos on if he only tried two new foods?
And then there are the cards. Every year I find all of the birthday, mothers’ day, and anniversary cards that I have saved over the years. I get the biggest kick out of the birthday cards because there, in black and white, some friend of mine has written beautiful words extolling my virtues as a good friend and then, lo and behold, it is signed by someone who no longer speaks to me. Good times. At least I have the proof that at one point all was well. The anniversary cards have gone from the mushy hallmark ones to the succinct…ahh, where has all the mushy gone? Probably in the cabinet with the 100 extra benchers that I said we didn’t need to order for our son’s bar mitzvahs. But I digress….
I honestly believe that we celebrate this holiday not to commemorate our time in the desert (wait, is that this holiday? Is this the slaves in Egypt one? Who knows?) but to get our house cleaned and organized. Yes, I know there are some of you who have clean and organized homes all year long. You always know where everything is and any cabinet on any given day is color coded and in perfect harmony with the stars and moon. But for those of us who spend most of our time making sure there aren’t pee stains on the bathroom floor, that all the socks with holes in them have been confiscated, and there are enough Stella D’oro cookies and Fanta in the house, Passover cleaning is fun, productive, and actually quite satisfying (she said laughingly with a bottle of non-alcoholic vodka in her hand…).
Happy cleaning all!
By Banji Latkin Ganchrow
