Yes, indeed, it's that time of year, when the brooms, dustpans, dustmops, cleaners, paper towels, and similar foreign objects get hauled out in earnest to clear the way for the spring season. Given my housecleaning style, this may take all summer.
The first inkling that I had caught this contagious disease was my wanting to wash windows. Mind you, it's only in the 30s today, but the drive to see clearly now was quite strong. Just doing the inside of the glass made a difference, not only in the quality of seeing the great outdoors, but also in my transition to the 'hey, it's really spring' mentality. Besides, my tomato seedlings need more light than the little fluorescent plant light will allow.
This was followed by some dusting. Dusting takes some of the enthusiasm away. All that coughing and sneezing. Okay, there isn't so much dust that you can fingerwrite 'Clean Me' on surfaces, but it does make me want to walk away until the uncaptured dust I've unsettled resettles.
Then, there are the cobwebs. You never realize how many cobwebs there really are in the corners and along the ceiling until you start knocking them down or sucking them into a vacuum cleaner. Could practically make a yard of spider silk fabric out of the result of this endeavor. (durable stuff, but as yet impractical to try and mass produce). I try to leave any spiders I see alone, which is a bit counterproductive in terms of cobweb re-accumulation, but is better in terms of insect control and karma. I don't have any qualms about co-existing with arachnids so long as they don't suddenly decide walk across my arm or dangle in front of my face.
Sweeping, vacuuming, contemplation of reorganizing, painting and redecorating. Yes, it's all there. But, I obsessively refuse to be compulsive about spring cleaning. I'm a self-described female version of Oscar Madison. Such an abrupt change in style can't be good for me.
Yet, the windows still call -- all 26 of them. Could someone take a message for me? I'm washing dishes.
