Soap

Ohrwurm

Ohrwurm (noun. german)

The phenomenon of having a song or a sound stuck in your head.
Earwig.

Having wasted a large portion of the time I was supposed to work with, I had to speed up everything I still had to do.

I quickly went over to the kitchen, looking for cleaning supplies but only found a bottle of dish soap and some kind of cleaning stuff in a spray bottle without a logo or anything on it.
Most people store their cleaning supplies either in the kitchen or the bathroom, so the latter I was going to check out next.

But like in the kitchen I couldnt find anything useful. He didn't even have bleach.
Who doesn't have bleach?

I sighed and walked back to the living room, my eyes landing on the canvas again.

"Can you tell me what the hell I am supposed to work with if that guy doesn't have anything in here?", I asked the man in the picture.
Of course I didnt get an answer.

Now I could try to look for a key to the other two rooms in the hallway because I was pretty sure one of them had at least something useful in it, but I didnt want to waste even more time than I already had.
I could have also just asked the guy in the lobby for help but the way he acted just told me not to be around him if I didnt have to.

And so I decided to just make do of what I had found in the kitchen earlier.

The jon turned out be harder than I thought. He didnt have much decor which always saves time but the cabinets and surfaces were of some kind of material I had never worked with before.
Everytime I would wipe the dust away, a new layer of dust would form right away. Maybe not that noticeable to the normal eye but after doing this job for a while now i just see it.
And it bothers me.

If i do a job, then I want to do it right.

After a few failed attempts to keep any surface clean of dust for more than three seconds I just gave up. By that point I had already vacuumed the whole place and cleaned the bathroom so I could finally pack my stuff and leave.
I swear I will never do anything for my mother again.
And just the thought of coming here twice a week makes me roll my eyes.

I couldn't help but ask myself why Frank Iero Iero couldn't clean his own damn place.
Not trying to be rude, but speaking from experience most people have some sort of disability that makes it too hard for them to do such work yourself. The sweat on my forehead and my drenched shirt are evidence enough to proof how physically exhausting simple cleaning can be.
But then theres the other clients who come to my mothers company for help, simply because they think too high of themselves to do it themselves. They have stupid amounts of money they want to throw out and working is their worst nightmare.
Just to remind you, speaking of an apartment this size.

I hated this second type of clients.
They were always rude and never tipped me anything.
It's always the nice old ladies that are thankful for my work that give me a few dollars on the side.
Or chocolate.
I love getting chocolate.
But the more money the clients make, the less they want to spend.
I hope they choke on it.

So anyway, I packed my bags and got ready to leave.
I put away the little cleaning supplies I've used and took one last look at every room in this apartment.

Good enough for me to leave.

But before I actually left I went back into the living area.
I wanted to see the photograph again.
I didnt know why but something inside me made me feel like it wouldn't be there next time I come around. Like i would have to carve every line and every hair, every inch of skin and ink into my brain so I would never forget it.
Those eyes.

After a few minutes of staring I finally realized how stupid that thought was and made a pact with myself to never talk about this with anybody. Problem are going to think I am crazy.

With one last look to the picture I turned around and went up to the door.
I made sure that I locked the door by unlocking it again three times. Just to be sure.

With a sigh of relief I made my way back downstairs by entering the elevator. I made a mental note, reminding myself to ask the guy in the lobby for a key to the supply room next time I come around.
Maybe I would be lucky too, and there is somebody else on the shift so I dont have to talk to that weirdo again.

When the elevator stopped in the lobby I first took a cautious look outside.
And when I saw the clerk talking to a woman in a suit I felt relieved again.
That way I didnt have to interact with him again.
I quickly ran past the woman and said a quick "bye". I'm sure he hasn't heard me but I didn't want to come off as rude either way.

When the door of the apartment building closed behind me, I finally felt like I could relax again.
Not that I didnt like what I was doing, but on days where I had a lot of clients I usually just counted the hours until I could finally go home again.
I could feel my body aching for me to go to bed.

I fumbled with the headphones of my phone and put on my audio book again. I couldnt wait to find out what would happen next.
And as I left the gate to the apartment building behind me, a man passed by me, heavily invested in his phone.

Usually that wouldn't catch my attention at all.
But that man looked very similar to the man in the picture I had been admiring the whole afternoon.

But when I turned around again to have a second glance he had already taken the next turn and was nowhere to be seen.
Danmnit Gerard, get yourself together.
I had been staring at this stupid picture for so long that any man would look like that to me.

I shook my head and tried to concentrate on my audiobook.

I finished the book on my way home without even realizing it.