With the sun shining brightly through the house windows, it should have been a wonderful day. Instead that sun and its brightness merely showed up work to be done, in all corners and everywhere in between.
Spring cleaning!
That is a term I have never understood. What is so important about the word “spring” that it brings the word “cleaning” in its wake? The same applies to “fall” and “cleaning.” One could ask if cleaning does not take place in summer and winter for those names, followed by cleaning just aren’t phrases one readily hears.
So, on this particular sunny day, the grit on the windows seemed more onerous, more gritty than on other sunny days. That sudden accumulation of grit almost made it impossible to take photographs through the window of the birds feasting at the feeding barn or squirrels trying desperately to take what isn’t there for their enjoyment.
I grew up with the house-wide cleaning tradition in the spring and fall and vowed to my younger self that I would not adhere to such silliness, that I would clean when the mood struck, regardless of month or year, or perhaps when potential company phoned ahead to say to expect visitors in the near future.
Anyone who knows me well knows not to expect a pristine house, and also understands that closed doors mean no entry advised. For the rooms that do not have doors to close, there might be a vacuum cleaner sitting in plain view, suggesting cleaning might be about to begin. In the other doorless room, there might be a floor mop sitting in a bucket just awaiting the sanitized water that would wash away all sorts of sins.
And in the hallway, just by the double plug-in, the hand-held stick corner vacuum would be on the charger, preparing itself for cleansing the stairs and corners of sand and dust bunnies large enough to take over a small country.
From years of practice in this house, I can quickly move all my piles of important papers to the centre of the table, leaving space for four people to eat if they fill their plates buffet style from the kitchen counter. This house does not provide plate service and only occasionally will it have bowls filled with food placed in the centre of the table, in Walton Family or growing-up style.
Occasionally when friends or relatives advise of impending visitations, I do embark on a flurry of cleaning, at least of the rooms likely to be used: upstairs bathroom, kitchen, hallway and parts of the living room. The doors remain closed on the other parts of the house and one can only hope the visitors are unable or unwilling to undertake a journey down the stairs to the basement.
I love clean surroundings but my affection for cleanliness does not translate to regular action on my part. Martha Stewart would look around in horror, but then who invited her to drop by without an invitation?
So, to reiterate: we have visitors coming to see us the first weekend in May. By then the rooms chosen for their inspection might just pass the white glove test.
And if inspection fails, we might be forgiven by offering to take them out to a favourite restaurant, to see the tourist attractions of Moose Jaw and allow them to sit outdoors where Housemate can avidly talk about his plants and soil mixtures. I will bring snacks to the picnic table. I will not supply white gloves and darn them if they show up with their own!
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
