I'm not sure how thorough I'm supposed to be in my cleaning work. Ortega's instructions are brief, minimal even. Sweep. Empty refuse bins. Should I only do as he asks? That wouldn’t even require half an hour. He wants me to keep the place clean, but doesn’t seem to have any understanding of what that entails. Maybe he’s never cleaned his own apartment? So I’m left to interpret. To fill in the blanks.
What should I touch and what should I ignore?
There’re so many strange objects inside his home. Cultural artifacts related to his professional work, which is also his driving passion. Some of the things are old, intricate, mysterious.
Today I went to wipe down something that looked like a strange sort of typewriter, encased in its own wooden box. The lid was open and everything inside was covered in a thick layer of dust. The dirt and grime seemed very old, like decades had passed since anyone had handled the thing. There were dials, rotor wheels and switches, and a label affixed to the underside of the lid with cleaning instructions in German. Words that were never meant for me, I’m sure, but words that somehow reached me across the years anyway.