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A Summer Live-In’s Guide To Weaseling Your Way Out Of The Pre-Fall House Cleaning

fraternity house cleaning dirty summer

Summer is a time of both great excess and great depravity for those of us who stay around campus. The best season of the year transforms every university it touches into a great lawless utopia of daydrinking, spontaneous shenanigans, and the formation of summer crew.

Ah yes, summer crew — the rag-tag coalition that keeps the house at least on life support, campus police amused, and the Natty Daddies flowing all summer long. But, like most sweet dreams, this too must pass.

As we have passed the midpoint of summer, many summer crews across the country have begun to hear the rumblings and bitchings of the new sorry bastards preparing to move into the house. Undoubtedly, despite making no more than two appearances all summer, they each expect the house to be in brand-new, new car-smelling, no-evidence-of-beer-spills-or-bodily-fluids condition upon arrival.

Unfortunately, this usually results in some tryhard declaring a “mandatory” (read: passive aggressive) house clean before move-in. Those returning will also probably make the argument that since most of the wounded warriors and empties around the house do, in fact, belong to the house’s summer inhabitants, summer crew should be forced to endure the brunt of the labor.

But I say nay, sir. I believe it is the fair weather brothers amongst us who should undertake this cleaning as penance for abandoning their chapter in its time of need. It was the members of summer crew who performed countless shotguns, countless belly-flops, and boundless amounts of golf course debauchery. And for what, you may ask? So that all those perusing social media — including incoming dimes and potential rushees — know that, beyond a reasonable doubt, we fuck.

In order to counteract the wishes of those live-out POS trash bags, I’ve invented the least painful method of transitioning the house from a sticky-sweet den of summer hedonism to “clean enough to take the edge off the bitching and probably get laid without having to go to her place” levels.

First, find out when the newbies are moving in. Avoid the house and remain invisible that day at all costs. Then, express your surprise after they’ve moved in and apologize for not being around to help out. Offer someone a beer.

Next, consult with summer crew and select a house clean date. Confirm it with the new guys. Suggest funds (not yours) be used to procure booze for motivation. Finally, on the agreed upon date, show up a few deep but functional.

Here’s the key: make yourself and the rest of summer crew plainly visible for the first twenty to forty minutes. Really get in there and sell the whole “cleaning” act. Afterward, either aggressively shotgun or rip shots until lights out or sneak out the back and get dinner, play golf, whatever — you’re a big boy; you can occupy yourself.

In the end, you should end up A) with a fairly clean house, B) not nearly as hated as the guys who never showed up, and C) with enough stamina and drinks left over for your tee time the next morning. You’re welcome.

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Peter Drinklage

That's what I do. I drink, and I know things. A real-life neanderthal who thinks he can write.

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