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Showing posts with label cleaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cleaning. Show all posts

Sunday, January 21, 2024

When Your Husband's a Writer

A snow shovel on an icy porch; iced over rhododendron in background.
Scene:  The living room. Mark is using a swifter.

Mark:  "There. I've finished sweeping and the floors feel less gritty."

John:  "Isn't that a metaphor for life." (Notices his shoes on the floor by the couch and goes to put them on the entry shoe rack.)

Mark (aghast):  "John!" (Steps in front of John and clasps him by the shoulders) "Look into my eyes."

John (trying to step around him): "But I need to pick up my ..."

Mark (holding him fast):  "Honey. Honey. Look at me: Sweeping and cleaning is an actual job we have to do to maintain the house. It's not a metaphor."

John:  "It's not a metaphor? Why can't it be both a metaphor and—"

Mark: "Oh my God, this explains so much."

Tuesday, January 04, 2022

New Moon Cleaning

Sunday was a new moon.  Sunday was a cleaning day.  

One of the drawbacks of not having a craft room or a library is that my side of the bedroom gets cluttered with books, artistic projects, and stray papers.  At one point in the past, I purchased some project boxes, and that helps a little, except that the boxes tend to end up underneath our bed along with stray summer shoes, and collect dust-bunnies and hairballs.  

The tchotchkes and pocket detritus, I'm sorry to say, even winds up on the top of my dresser, which is supposed to be my altar.  The dresser was also doubling as my vanity table and necklace display.  

Mark worked on another project and walked the dog while I reshelved books.  Then I reviewed a few old textbooks.  It was very hard, but I threw away a thirty-five year old S Statistics Package manual from 1986.  I haven't analyzed data with S (on a PDP-11 VAX) since I wrote my undergraduate Psychology thesis.   I think even S+ is old and this was just plain old S --  they've moved onto calling it R -- and my old Statistics Instructor, Albyn Jones, retired just the other year.   It was very weird getting rid of it -- I felt like I had betrayed the Spirit of the Library of Alexandria, or tossed out a children's tattered magic kit, or burnt an old lover's letters -- and I had to sit down with Cicero afterward.  

But I soon carried on, vacuuming, cleaning out old receipts, storing some items in the garage, and even tossing a few periodicals from the late 1900's, which allowed me to actually shelve a few more books instead of stacking them.   And yes, some things were shook out, wiped off, and returned to newly dust-free nooks.  

I figured out a better way to store and display my necklaces:  only one is a proper talisman,  two I'd call amulets, about half are charms, and the rest are merely theatrical -- so moving them off of my altar area made sense.  I do like wearing them, but over the last year with COVID and not going out as much, I've fallen off of choosing one in the morning.

With more space, I moved the Portable Stonehenge to be more central.  Continuing with the "less is more" theme, I cleared away most of the junk jewelry and all but a few of my elemental emblems and ritual tools.  The end result feels calmer and less frenetic, and I'll have to see if I can continue to just take 30 seconds in the morning to ground, center, and move the day, moon and sun pegs around their courses.

Saturday, August 03, 2013

A Brief Cleaning Break....

Whoes muddy feet in Summer time
Did track o'er these wooden floors?
And did the shedding household cat
bring dead beasts in from out of doors?

Bring me my Broom of burning gold;
Bring me my Dustpan of desire:
Bring me my Mop: O clouds unfold!
Bring my Vacuum Cleaner of fire!