How do you hire a new cleaning person? You have to clean first

Rolf, the old friend I visited in the Netherlands back in June, is heading to the Garden State in a few days for a nine-day visit.

When he told me about his plans in late August, I was thrilled.

“I’ll be flying into Newark in October,” he informed me, via text.

“That’s great,” I immediately replied.

Then, I looked around my house and panicked.

Four months ago, my longtime housekeeper, who swore she would never leave me, decided it was time to say adieu.

As you might imagine, I experienced a profound sense of loss when she stopped by to return my house keys.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, over and over again.

“Yes,” she said, from behind the wheel of her car. “Please get off my hood. I don’t want to have to call the police.”

For days, I shuffled aimlessly from dirty room to dirty room, trying not to touch anything.

I sighed. I wept. I played Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” on my CD player for 30 days straight.

And I grew strong.

And I learned how to get along.

Well, sort of.

Since that fateful day, I’ve vacuumed a couple of times and thought seriously about dusting.

(Actually, if you take off your glasses, your dust isn’t nearly as noticeable.)

Once word of my plight hit my social media pages, friends sent me recommendations for their myriad cleaning ladies — and one cleaning gentleman.

So who should I call? This one? That one? All of the above?

I have what may be the smallest house in Bergen County. Built in 1890, it’s less than 1,000 square feet.

Still, I often find myself lost in a sublime "Downton Abbey" fantasy world, replete with footmen, valets, parlor maids and a stableman or two, to groom my horses and provide them with fresh hay.

Imagine waking up every morning to the soothing voice of Mr. Carson. Or Benson. Or Niles from “The Nanny.” Or Shirley Booth’s Hazel.

“Time to get up, Mr. B.”

Apparently, all of my friends’ cleaning folk are looking for additional homes to clean, bless their hearts. Unfortunately, most of them want to see the house FIRST, before they will take the job.

And we all know what that means.

No one wants to walk into a disaster area.

So, before you can hire someone to clean your house, you have to — sniffle, sniffle — clean your house.

Seriously.

All by yourself.

CONCERNED FRIEND: “Did you find a new cleaning person yet?”

ME: “No, not yet. I’m still straightening up the dining room.”

Purging the premises before a prospective housekeeper arrives to case the joint will allay their fears and fool them into thinking you’re not the king of Slobville.

As I told my friend Olga two weeks ago, “I’m trying. Really I am. I want to hire someone before Rolf gets here, but he’ll be here in 17 days. It’s going to take me at least that long to just clean my new oven.”

Olga was confused. “That oven was so expensive. Isn’t it self-cleaning?”

“That’s what it said on the paperwork,” I replied. “But every morning I wake up, open the door and it’s still not clean.”

According to one housekeeping site I visited online, ovens are the number one toughest housecleaning task — although another site insisted that tiles and grout are the worst.

The rest of the lists included toilets, shower stalls, windows, carpets and refrigerators.

“How bad is your fridge?” Olga asked.

“It’s kinda funky, I guess. I had a box of baking soda in there, but I kept it so long the arm the dropped the hammer.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said.

Yeah. I know.

But I will survive.

Maybe.

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: How do you hire a new cleaning person? You have to clean first