A clean, well-lighted place

I came home to a clean house tonight and they all knew I would be so stunned, they sent one child out to help me carry in my coffee cup and computer, and set another one up on the ledge over the stairs to capture the look on my face when I walked in.  What a treat, to have things not only picked up, but vacuumed and wiped down.

And all it took was for my husband to be so sick he actually called in sick. He started feeling better from this cold that has made sleeping in the same room downright impossible (he snores a bit when he doesn’t have a cold: when he does have a cold, well, let’s just say that I woke up abruptly the other night and ran under a doorjamb, only to realize it was just him snoring and not an earthquake–you can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take the tremor terrors out of the girl).

But he rallied enough this afternoon to do a job that has been necessary for some time: a cleansing of the refrigerator. First he had to find what was creating that really sour odor, which, I think is the perfect job for someone with a cold. That done, he rallied the girls (according to them, as SOON as they walked in the door) to help tidy, vacuum, sweep and mop.  The only room they didn’t get to was the bathroom, which is getting a thorough bleaching tomorrow anyway (I know, I know, not very eco-friendly, but please, as seldom as that room gets down-and-dirty clean, I feel okay about the once-yearly bleaching).

Speaking of once-yearly bleaching: we had a taste of spring today. The temperature nearly hit 60 today and that was a blessing in and of itself. But I mention spring and bleaching in the same sort-of sentence because I finally realized in the last few years about that tired old line about spring cleaning. I never understood it before, growing up in So California and then living in Tempe, AZ for 8 years, but now that I live in a place that has seasons, I totally get it. You don’t see the dirt in the winter. It’s too dark and even if you do see it, there’ s no reason to clean it because it’s just going to get dirtied up again as quickly as a pre-menstrual teen can devour a bag of Dove chocolates. There seems no point to cleaning floors that only get snow, rain and mud tracked in…right?

Ah, I’m showing my slacker tendencies again.  I’ll stop.  I’m just so delighted that people in this house cared enough about me to take the time to make the house look nice for me when I walked in the door. And, I have to admit, I don’t do it nearly enough for the people I love.  We could all do better. I’m just so grateful, really grateful, for this clean, well-lighted space.

(And I’m revelling in it now, as everyone else sleeps, because tomorrow is chock full of music performances and practices and a science project that must be completed with a friend–and then there’s Sunday, with a Worship Committee meeting that I just this very second realized conflicts with the Girl Scout jamboree–that’s not what THEY call it–which my husband could take her to, but that would require me to do some serious, serious exchanges, and except that I committed him to watch the two kids of one of the other committee members during that meeting. Oh good crap.)

Okay, deep breaths, deep cleansing breaths. Isn’t the house lovely. Truly lovely.


About TinaLBPorter

I write poetry and blog at www.tinalbporter.com. And I'm thrilled to be writing with you.
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