House and office cleaning company in Nashville, TNSuper Cleaning Solution

Short-term rental turnovers are a good part of our weekend. Beds stripped and remade, the glasses somebody left in the sink, the trash from four people who had a fine time downtown, floors, bathrooms, and the porch chairs back where they belong. Then one slow walk through with the lights on, because a hair on a white sink is the first thing the next guest sees.

The other early call is the morning after a party. Kitchen, the ring of cups on the coffee table, and then outside: the patio, the grill, and if the deck has gone green over the winter we can pressure wash it.

Moving is a different kind of work. An empty room hides nothing. The shelf paper in the pantry, the seal around the fridge door, the closet rails, the baseboards that had a couch parked in front of them for six years. We do move-outs and move-ins, and Clarksville sits up by the Kentucky line where somebody is always coming or going.

Then there are the builders. A remodel finishes and the house looks finished, right up until the afternoon sun comes across the room and you see the film on every flat surface. We do the rough clean while the work is still going, the final before the walk-through, and the touch-up after. And the smallest job of all still matters to whoever is calling: family lands Friday and the guest room has been a storage room since March.

An hour out: Clarksville, Columbia, Watertown

Sixty minutes is the line, and we mean driving time, not miles on a map.

Northwest that reaches Clarksville. South it gets us to Columbia. East we take Highway 70 through Mount Juliet and Lebanon and keep going to Watertown. Northeast is Gallatin. On the Rutherford side, Murfreesboro and La Vergne. West and north of the river, the country roads out in Cheatham County.

Everything inside that ring is fair game. All of Davidson County, Madison, Antioch, Bluegrass, and the new subdivisions filling in between them.

Past the hour we say no, and we would rather say it on the phone than have you waiting on us with I-24 stopped and a job that needed four hours.

March pollen, August mildew, January salt

Eight years in one place and you stop cleaning by the room. You start cleaning by the month.

From March into May the trees let go and the whole city turns a shade of yellow. It comes in through the screens whether the windows were open or not, and it lands on sills, on the slats of the blinds, on the top edge of the ceiling fan blades where nobody looks up. Dry dusting just moves it to the floor. It has to be wiped damp, with the cloth rinsed out often.

July and August the afternoons sit in the low nineties and the heat index runs past a hundred, and with the air conditioning going all day the house never fully dries. Mildew always starts in the same four places: the low grout lines in the shower, the bead of caulk where the tub meets the wall, under the rim of the toilet, and the rubber gasket on a front-load washer.

In January they brine the roads ahead of the ice. It dries white, it rides home on everybody's shoes, and it leaves a chalky ring on the hardwood inside the door and a crust on the mats.

Drywall dust is its own animal. It keeps settling for two weeks after the last truck pulls out, and it hides in the window tracks, along the top edge of the door casings, and down in the ridges of the return vent. In the tall, skinny three-story houses they have been putting up around East Nashville and The Nations, the part nobody ever wipes is the stairwell: the baseboards climbing up, the trim at the landing, and the wall right where your hand goes.

Closer in: apartments, offices, a showroom floor

Not all of it is houses.

Property managers call us for turnovers in the apartment buildings around Madison, Antioch and La Vergne. That work runs against a clock, because the unit has to be ready for the next lease, not ready eventually.

Offices we take at the front of the day, before the phones start, or on a Saturday when the place is empty. Retail the same way. A dealership is its own animal: glass with a hundred handprints on it and a showroom floor that shows every tire mark under those lights.

For all of it, the price is set for the job before we start, so what we quote is what you pay. Card, check, Zelle, PayPal or cash, whichever is simplest for your office.

Six days a week, either language

When you call, you get us, not a script.

English or Spanish, whichever you would rather speak. Both work here, and on a job site that saves time: we can talk to the builder and to the crew he has on the floor without anybody guessing.

Hours are eight in the morning to six in the evening Monday through Friday, and nine to three on Saturday. Sundays we are home.

Tell us the town, the day, how many bedrooms and baths, and whether you want it one time, every week, every two weeks or once a month. A picture of the room says more than a paragraph. And mention the dog, because most of what we carry is plant-based and biodegradable, with a hypoallergenic line for houses where somebody is sensitive. Where a job truly needs something stronger, we use it, and we tell you before we do.

If we finish and something is not right, say so. We come back and redo it at no charge. That part is ours to fix, not yours to live with.