Spring Cleaning (Or, What's WRONG With Me?)
As those who know me, even a little, know well, I'm not much of a girl for housecleaning. It bores me more than just a little. It's exhausting, painful, and -- since we live in the dustiest city this side of Calcutta -- fruitless. A continuous loop of 'lift, clean, set down, lift, clean, set down'. We also have three dogs and two cats and they're anti the idea of keeping the house neat and tidy.
Oh sure, the house is cleaner than I probably make it sound, for which, 99% of the time, the kudos go to my husband. But not this week.
No, this week, I've been doing the cleaning. And I have only one thing to say: God alone knows why.
Wait. Two things: Please, God, somebody stop me!
For reasons I still can't comprehend but am blaming on Spring (as if we even have Spring here -- it's more like three weeks where it's not really cold and not horrifyingly hot) I got the urge to clean. And not just any clean. No, really clean. Clean clean.
I have a bad back, and so this kind of cleaning is not to be undertaken lightly. Or all at once. Or it's extra quality time with the chiropractor. So, I've been working through, room by room. But not all parts of the rooms. Just the lower parts.
You read that right. From about knee height down, my house is sparkling. Higher than that? Well, it's...about the same as it always is.
I have no idea why I care so much about the floors and the baseboards and the corners and all. I just do. If I were pregnant (which, thankfully, I am not), I'd say I was 'nesting'. If we had company coming, I'd say it was to impress them. But our company left already and she was nice and we didn't have to impress her. Nor, let me stress, was her presence the reason for the cleaning season. She left the guestroom a lot neater than when she arrived. (Someone has to be neat around here. Sure, it was a visitor, but that counts, right?) I haven't killed anyone, so I'm not having a Lizzie Borden or Lady Macbeth complex of any kind (look it up), nor am I trying to get rid of evidence.
No, there's no obvious reason for this -- I can call it nothing else -- cleaning frenzy. It's just there. Telling me that, as soon as the floors of the remaining rooms are done, we're going to work on the walls. And then, perhaps, the ceilings. And then, if I'm not dead -- we'll start straightening things, finding a place for everything and putting everything in its place. So that this will be the best Spring Cleaning EVER in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD. Or at least the history of me.
Summer cannot get here fast enough.
TGC
Oh sure, the house is cleaner than I probably make it sound, for which, 99% of the time, the kudos go to my husband. But not this week.
No, this week, I've been doing the cleaning. And I have only one thing to say: God alone knows why.
Wait. Two things: Please, God, somebody stop me!
For reasons I still can't comprehend but am blaming on Spring (as if we even have Spring here -- it's more like three weeks where it's not really cold and not horrifyingly hot) I got the urge to clean. And not just any clean. No, really clean. Clean clean.
I have a bad back, and so this kind of cleaning is not to be undertaken lightly. Or all at once. Or it's extra quality time with the chiropractor. So, I've been working through, room by room. But not all parts of the rooms. Just the lower parts.
You read that right. From about knee height down, my house is sparkling. Higher than that? Well, it's...about the same as it always is.
I have no idea why I care so much about the floors and the baseboards and the corners and all. I just do. If I were pregnant (which, thankfully, I am not), I'd say I was 'nesting'. If we had company coming, I'd say it was to impress them. But our company left already and she was nice and we didn't have to impress her. Nor, let me stress, was her presence the reason for the cleaning season. She left the guestroom a lot neater than when she arrived. (Someone has to be neat around here. Sure, it was a visitor, but that counts, right?) I haven't killed anyone, so I'm not having a Lizzie Borden or Lady Macbeth complex of any kind (look it up), nor am I trying to get rid of evidence.
No, there's no obvious reason for this -- I can call it nothing else -- cleaning frenzy. It's just there. Telling me that, as soon as the floors of the remaining rooms are done, we're going to work on the walls. And then, perhaps, the ceilings. And then, if I'm not dead -- we'll start straightening things, finding a place for everything and putting everything in its place. So that this will be the best Spring Cleaning EVER in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD. Or at least the history of me.
Summer cannot get here fast enough.
TGC
Labels: Calcutta, chiropractor, housecleaning, humor, humorous essays, humorous writing, Jeanne Cook, JeanneTGC, Lady Macbeth, Lizzie Borden, nesting, pregnant, spring cleaning
posted by Gini Koch at
7:51 PM
4 Comments:
Ah, I know what it looks. I go through stages where I go nuts and cannot stop.
I want the stage to go away. Far, far away. I'm actually PLANNING what I'm going to tackle next. This is not like me. Even my husband is starting to leave the "I can't believe it!" stage to the "who are you and what have you done with my wife?" stage. Stop the cleaning frenzy, I want to get off!
Ah I can totally relate. I have a bad back too, but I was hit with a cleaning frenzy that was one for the books. I usually DO do housecleaning, but this was above and beyond housecleaning. I know of some other people who were hit with it, too. Let's blame it on Spring.
Spring is evil, there is no other explanation. I'd suggest a boycott, but I'm betting that would somehow mean MORE cleaning. TGC
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