Nook And Cranny Cleaning Tools Novels & Stories

He walked over, unhooking the swing and lowering it to the porch. Shaking his head, he walked inside, putting it from his mind. He stacked his groceries up on the counter and tossed the bag of supplies on the kitchen table. Stocking the fridge, he began organizing the tools from the store. A few scrub brushes, a trowel, and a drain snake were pulled from the bucket he had purchased, as well as a screwdriver.

He had stepped into a different story and discovered he didn’t know any of the lines. Vince peeled back the cloth. The tray gleamed: a bone saw; a heavy cleaver; a belt of tourniquets; gauze; a small bottle of clear liquid that wasn’t water; a long straight blade wrapped in oiled paper, the kind of tool that had opinions about daylight.

I would be ready. Looking around, started opening different storage tubs that were down there. Thr first three black tubs where clothes and different blankets. The next one was more food items and even a little burner to cook some of this. Finally, I found different tools. Mostly screw drivers, wrenches, extension cord but at the bottom was the biggest cresent moon wrench I have ever scene. That will work. Grabbing it, I ran over to the door and got ready. Surely, he would be down here soon. My body was bouncing with anticipation. Each time my hand squeezed the wrench, I would get a sharp pain runnning down my arm.

I go to the checkout, pay and put it all in my truck before walking inside again. This time I’m getting a couple of rugs, some clothes, seeing as I only had so much to take with me and it’s all kind of dirty now. Soap, fabric softener etc for washing, and everything for doing the dishes. Then I find some plates, cups and cutlery. Knives for making food and an ax to make firewood. Lastly I remember I probably have a big cleaning ahead of me, and make my way to get all the cleaning supplies, bucket, broom and so on.

Goddess, I hope I’m not wrong about him. I have my third shower for the day, then go back down to the kitchen and follow the servants’ passage until I reach the cleaning closet. Well, that’s what one of the Omegas called it, but it’s a massive room filled with every cleaning product under the sun, vacuums, brooms, dusters… keeping this mansion clean must be a monumental task. I take the power washer I saw earlier, a bottle of industrial strength bleach, ammonia, and some kind of degreaser. Regular scrubbing didn’t clean the mattress, so it’s time to bring out the big boys.

The wheels of his rolling chair squeaked softly against the linoleum as he casually scooted over to a stainless-steel medical cart against the wall. When he rolled back to her side a moment later, the heavy metal clipboard was gone. In its place, he held a cold steel tray carrying a bottle of amber disinfectant, several empty, sterile glass vials, and a terrifyingly long, thick-gauge needle specifically designed for invasive deep-tissue extraction.

I spray a gentle, yet effective, cleaner onto a soft cloth, wiping down the interfaces and handrails, ensuring every touchpoint is sanitized and gleaming. The scent of the cleaner, fresh and clean, begins to fill the air, replacing the day's sweat and effort. Moving on, I approach the weights area, where dumbbells and barbells lie in organized rows, silent witnesses to the day's challenges and triumphs. I meticulously clean each piece, from the smallest weight to the largest plate, ensuring they are not only visually spotless but also hygienic for the next day's users. The metallic clink of the weights, as I return them to their racks, punctuates the quiet, a satisfying sign of progress.

I asked playfully. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.” Allison replied with a sweet smile. She walked toward a closet and opened it. “Here are all the carts kept. You take one and fill it with whatever you think you’ll need. Cleaning supplies, clean towels, and trash bags. It’s already filled, but it’s always good to check your supplies just in case.”

Once I find Jack's cleaning supplies I immediately bring them with me to the area of Jack's mess. There are tiny fragments of porcelain all around the floors and countertops, making it difficult for me to maneuver around considering I was barefoot. I use the broom to gather all the broken fragments and discarded pieces of food from the ground before collecting it all in the dustpan and throwing it away in the trash. Once the floors were no longer crowded I then use a large paper towel to collect all the large pieces of porcelain off of the countertops. I spend the next few minutes cleaning away all the food covering the marble before spraying the entire area with disinfectant spray.

At least now I have a real reason to stay inside my tiny room and hide under my thin blankets all day. I do not want to move, but I know I have to get up and fix myself. I slide off my flat, lumpy floor mat and walk slowly toward the tiny washroom. As I step inside, I look down at the small woven basket on the floor. I need to find a new bundle of cotton pads. I drag my feet over to the old wooden cabinet next to my small food box. I open the squeaky doors, and then I freeze completely. I do not own any iron tools. Why is there a metal screwdriver sitting inside my private cabinet?