Today I cleaned the house. Cleaned like a mofo. Things were tossed. Bags of clothes and shoes were bundled ready to be taken away. Mirrors gleam. Dark wood is dust free. Washing washed. Beds made. Floors vacuumed and mopped.
Flowers have been cut and placed in bottles on the huge mantle in the lounge. Furniture had been moved. Trinkets rearranged. Music cranked. Nag Champa burnt.
The house smells all heady, earthy, clean. I walk through the rooms admiring the cleanliness.
You know, don’t you when you clean a house, I mean really, really clean it, its got nothing to do with a clean house. Right? Or is that just me.
All that cleaning. Scrubbing. Wiping. Moving. Rearranging. It’s about everything except a house that would pass the white glove inspection. Isn’t it.
I have a lot on my mind. It whirls and knocks about in my head. And you know that when there’s things to be thought on, shit gets done. Not the shit I need to really do, but all the other stuff. Like cleaning the house. Or getting Hubby to help me rearrange the kid’s lounge to include a study space for homework.
It’s been a week. You know the ones; they seem to go on relentlessly. For no particular reason and a thousand all at once I feel stretched to the limit.
It will pass. As will the neat as a pin house and, no doubt the homework area.
But for now, I console myself with nag champa and earl grey. With scotch fingers and a cleaner than clean house.
The days with their short light and cold still air will wrap me in the comfort of autumnal indoor living.