Following a morning of baking, I quickly crammed the baking equipment back into the cupboard so I could get out of the kitchen and read a book. In my rush to get on with my plans for the day, I again thrust the pans in on top of everything already in there. When it didn’t quite fit, I put Fibber McGee to shame, jiggled things around and made them fit.
My cattywampus style of storage guaranteed the dishes would come tumbling out the minute anyone touched the door. That did not bother me. Out of sight, out of mind, the room was clean; time for me to read a book.
My mother encountered that philosophy one time too many. She came to the kitchen that day as I finished hiding the dishes.
“We don’t have any cleaning elves,” she dryly observed.
“Cleaning elves?” I studied her face for the joke.
“Yes, cleaning elves,” she said as she sat down on the floor in front of the biggest cupboard. She carefully opened the door to reveal the hodgepodge mess I had left and began pulling out cookie sheets, mixing bowls and frying pans.
“Let me tell you about the cleaning elves,” she said. “The cleaning elves don’t mind cleaning a house and putting it in order. They enjoy putting things away and washing the floors, but they can not bake worth a penny. They always depend on someone else to make their favorite food: cookies.
“The elves lived down the street from a pretty lady called Betty. She loved to bake cookies, but she did not like to clean her house or even her kitchen after she finished baking. She just wanted to spend her time in the kitchen baking and then take the cookies and milk to the bedroom where she could lay on the bed and read the rest of the day.”
(I tucked my book and fistful of cookies behind me at this point.)
“One day Betty carried a batch of fresh cookies to her neighbors The Cleaning Elves. As they talked, each discussed homemaking. Betty did not like to clean. She did not like to take care of the cooking utensils and straightening the kitchen. The cleaning elves could not bake. Betty liked to bake and the cleaning elves really liked her fresh cookies. Betty offered to make them cookies if they would clean her house. Both went to bed that night quite happy with their deal.
“The first week Betty baked a small batch of fresh cookies for the three cleaning elves who lived next door. The elves showed up promptly at 11 and had the house clean before lunch. They collected their plate of cookies and chatted with family and friends about their bargain. The next week, the mother and father cleaning elves moved into the neighborhood. With their help the cleaning elves whipped through the kitchen in record time. They smiled expectantly at Betty’s stash of cookies. She handed them the usual small batch of cookies. They shook their heads. It was not enough. She made another batch before she sat down to read her book. The next day she made a double batch of cookies.
“The third week the cleaning elves’ sisters and brothers moved in and Betty had to make yet another batch of cookies, which made an even bigger mess. She had to work into the afternoon baking before she could tumble on the couch to read. The fourth week the aunts and uncles of the cleaning elves arrived to help with the cleaning. With all the cleaning elves showing up for cleaning and cookies, Betty worked until supper time to make enough cookie while the army of elves cleaned her house in less time than it took her to shop for the ingredients.
“That night Betty sat down and thought about her long day shopping and cooking. The next day, she pulled the shades on her house, locked the doors and left a note. ‘No more cookies, I will clean for myself.’ That morning she made up a small batch of cookies, cleaned the kitchen putting everything away in its place and still had all afternoon and evening to eat cookies and read a book.”
As my mom finished the story, she lifted the last stack of bowls and placed them very neatly back into the cupboard. “There is a place for everything. Put everything in its place.”
“Put it away right and you will never have to bake for the cleaning elves,” she concluded as she closed the door.
It was a good story. I think about it every time the clutter overwhelms me and wonder where the cleaning elves live in my neighborhood. I wouldn’t mind baking them a dozen cookies in exchange for a tidy house.