I Love Cleaning My Airbnb Before I Go Home
It’s something I want—maybe even need—to do.
I always receive glowing reviews from Airbnb hosts. Whether I’m staying at a rustic farm cabin that smells faintly of manure in small-town Ontario, or an ultra-modern condo in luxe Naples, Florida, I tend to leave the place impeccably clean—sometimes even cleaner than my actual home.
"We are paying them to clean the place,” my husband will say, as I scrub the countertops, empty the garbage, and sweep up crumbs.
But I don’t care. It’s something I want—maybe even need—to do. Invariably, at the end of a vacation, my husband will take our three kids to a nearby beach or out for ice cream. And I spend that hour tidying. By the time they return, you can’t tell that our family of five has even been there. And I feel refreshed, energized, and oddly soothed.
It wasn’t long ago that Airbnb was widely considered a cheaper alternative to hotels, but it seems like every two to three months, someone complains online about fee creep, inducing a firestorm of commentary. In June of this year, for example, an X user posted that their $1,300 Airbnb came with a lengthy list of cleaning instructions—as well as a reminder to tip the cleaning staff. Reddit is similarly full of stories from travelers who say they’ve been charged hundreds of bucks for the pleasure of sweeping, cleaning used towels, and taking out the garbage at someone else’s home.
It’s enough to make many folks—including myself—question the utility of the platform and their allegiance to it. But the thing is, I’ve always been a bit of a ritualistic traveler. I’m the type of person who carefully unpacks upon arrival to signify the beginning of a trip. And I think that the act of carefully putting items away, loading the dishwasher, and doing a load of laundry similarly lets my brain know it’s time to transition back to reality.
“This tendency likely stems from a desire for order, control, and a sense of closure or completeness,” explains Dr. Daniel Glazer, a clinical psychologist and co-founder of US Therapy Rooms. “The physical act of cleaning and organizing represents an outlet to restore order from the minor chaos of being on vacation. Just as establishing a routine when arriving at a new place can ease the transition, so too can the process of reset, cleanup, and departure provide comforting rituals.”
It’s true: I’m scrubbing floors for more than just a glowing review on Airbnb, although that’s a nice bonus. I would also argue there’s something almost playful about cleaning a space that isn't mine. It reminds me of when I was a teenage babysitter and I’d snoop through the homes of my employers—except this time I’m actually encouraged to open cupboards and play “house” in a space that’s new to me.
Glazer says that for some people, tidying a space that isn’t theirs can provide joy and a sense of child-like play. “There's also this undeniable whimsy to ‘playing house,’” he says. “Tending to the home allows you to indulge that childlike homemaking fantasy.”Travel has always been about indulging my fantastical side, accessing playfulness, and discovering soothing practices. So regardless of what cleaning fee I’m required to pay or how much of a mess I even made, I’m going to put on rubber gloves and leave the place pristine. This is my vacation anyway, and I’m doing it for me.