The first time I hired cleaners, I spent six hours cleaning before they arrived. My husband found me at midnight scrubbing behind the toilet, and asked the question that broke my brain: “Aren’t we paying someone to do that tomorrow?”
Yeah. I was cleaning for the cleaners. And I wasn’t alone—turns out half my friends do the same thing.
The Pre-Clean Panic Is Real
Last month, my neighbor texted me at 7 AM: “Cleaners coming at 9. Currently shoving three months of mail into a closet. Send help.” I laughed because two weeks earlier, I’d hidden dirty dishes in the oven minutes before my cleaning service arrived. We’re all ridiculous.
Here’s what Maria, who’s cleaned my house for two years, finally told me: “We don’t care about your mess. We care about being able to reach the surfaces.” That changed everything. The goal isn’t to impress the cleaners—it’s to let them actually clean.
Prepare Your House For Cleaning
Clear the Surfaces, Not Your Conscience
The biggest favor you can do for your cleaners? Get stuff off surfaces. Not clean them—just clear them. That stack of papers on the kitchen counter? Find it a temporary home. The seventeen water glasses on your nightstand? Into the dishwasher.
“I can’t clean what I can’t see,” Maria explained after I apologized for the fifteenth time about my cluttered bathroom counter. “If I spend half my time moving your things, that’s less time actually cleaning.”
Now I do a ten-minute pickup the night before. Kids’ toys go in baskets, random objects find drawers, and surfaces become visible. It’s not about perfection—it’s about access.
The Bathroom Truth Nobody Mentions
You know what’s awkward? Having strangers clean around your personal items. The first time cleaners came, I forgot about the prescription bottles, half-used face masks, and yes, that pregnancy test box on the bathroom counter.
Now I sweep bathroom counters into a drawer or basket. Takes two minutes, saves everyone’s dignity. My friend Lauren goes further and puts all medications in a locked drawer. “Not because I don’t trust them,” she says, “but because it feels weird having my anxiety meds on display.”
Don’t stress about the actual bathroom dirt. That’s literally why they’re there. Just clear the personal stuff so they can get to the soap scum you’ve been ignoring for three months.
The Kitchen Conversation
To do dishes or not to do dishes? This drove me crazy until I just asked. Turns out, every cleaning service is different. Maria’s team doesn’t do dishes unless specifically requested. My sister’s cleaners do whatever’s in the sink. Some charge extra for dishes. Ask upfront.
What everyone agrees on: clear the counters. Dirty dishes in the dishwasher or sink are fine. Dirty dishes covering every surface means they can’t wipe down counters properly. I run the dishwasher the night before and empty it while having morning coffee. Counter space magically appears.
Also, that junk drawer where you shove everything when company comes? The cleaners don’t care. Shove away.
The Bed Debate
Should you strip the beds? Make them? Leave them messy? This caused minor warfare in my house until we established rules. If you want sheets washed, strip the bed and leave clean sheets obviously visible. If not, make the bed (roughly—hospital corners not required).
“Nothing worse than guessing if someone wants sheets changed,” Tom from the cleaning service told me. “We’ve stripped beds thinking we were helping, only to find out those were the clean sheets they’d just put on.”
Now I text Maria: “Sheets today please” or “Skip sheets this week.” Clear communication beats mind reading every time.
Valuables and Paranoia
Let’s address the elephant: valuable stuff. My mother hides her jewelry before cleaners come. My brother leaves everything out as a “test of honesty.” Both approaches are weird energy to bring to the situation.
I put important documents in a filing cabinet and expensive jewelry in my dresser drawer. Not because I distrust my cleaners, but because having valuables scattered around makes everyone uncomfortable. Maria once spent ten minutes trying to clean around my grandmother’s ring because she was terrified of moving it. Nobody needs that stress.
Cash lying around is awkward for everyone. I once left a twenty on the dresser and Maria carefully cleaned around it, then took a photo to show it was still there. Just put money away. Make everyone’s life easier.
Pet Protocol
Nobody warned me about pet prep. The first cleaning day, my dog followed the team room to room, “helping.” My cat hid under the bed for four hours, then revenge-peed on my pillow. Lessons were learned.
Now the dog goes to daycare on cleaning days. The cat gets locked in the bedroom with his favorite blanket and emerges when it’s safe. If your pets are chill, great. If not, make a plan.
“I’ve been bitten, scratched, and humped,” one cleaner told me. “I love animals, but not while I’m trying to work.” Fair point.
Also, pick up pet toys unless you want them sanitized. My dog’s favorite squeaky toy got thoroughly cleaned once. He looked personally betrayed by its lemony freshness.
Communication Is Everything
Those notes I used to leave everywhere? “Please don’t move this!” “Skip this room!” “Careful with this!” They were making everyone crazy, including me.
Now I do a two-minute walkthrough when the team arrives. “Skip the office today, someone’s on a video call. Focus on the bathrooms—we had guests.” Done. They appreciate the direction, I don’t waste time writing a novel in Post-its.
If something specific needs attention, say it. I spent months being quietly annoyed that they never cleaned the baseboards until Maria pointed out I’d never asked. “We have a routine unless you tell us otherwise,” she said. Mind. Blown.
The Stuff That Actually Matters
After two years of professional cleaning, here’s what actually helps:
Clear the floors. Shoes, backpacks, random Amazon boxes—get them off the ground. Your cleaners can’t vacuum or mop around an obstacle course.
Secure loose papers. The one time important documents got thrown away was my fault for leaving them in a pile of junk mail. Now anything important goes in a folder.
Communicate weird stuff. House quirks matter. The toilet handle that needs jiggling, the door that sticks, the vacuum-eating rug corner. Share the intel.
Be home the first time. Every house is different. Being there to answer questions the first visit prevents future confusion.
Stop Apologizing
The biggest tip? Stop saying sorry for having a lived-in house. “Sorry about the mess” was my greeting for months until Maria finally said, “If your house was clean, I’d be unemployed.”
They’ve seen worse. Whatever you’re embarrassed about—the dust bunnies, the soap scum, that mystery stain on the carpet—they’ve dealt with infinitely worse. Your normal life mess is their normal workday.
My turning point came when I realized I was spending more energy being embarrassed than just letting them help. Now I do basic pickup, clear surfaces, and get out of their way. The house gets clean, nobody’s stressed, and I don’t waste Saturday mornings panic-cleaning for people I’m literally paying to clean.
The point of hiring help is to get help. Let them do their job. Your pre-cleaning should take fifteen minutes, not three hours. Save that energy for enjoying your clean house afterward—that’s what you’re really paying for.