Shouldn’t I be The Head of the House?

My habitat is the most hidden place of the house. There is where I encounter either a rat or a mouse. Though I am off white or pale brown, not that pretty but I am the beauty maker. I am like that place where people go to be cleansed, that holy city of Mecca. I always wonder why I am not recognized or spoken out loud on the basic needs’ list. Your hands aren’t new to me, though I am not money or even of value at least.

That emergency 911 line, the port of call when: One makes a spill. Something is splashed. Everything looks dusty.

I am that 180° switch, causing changes from: Ugly to pretty. Dirty to clean. Filthy to pure. It is my responsibility to clean a mess and leave it spotless. That is why I never care less when one or two are careless. I am the reason behind people’s admiration of everything. The actual backbone of the household’s smartness and status. I am the creator and the gate opener to all visitors who flood in. It is I who transforms a house into a cheerful warm home.