Still awaiting the final proof. I’ve been in a horrible mood
for days, moldering around the house, moody and irritable. My dog looks at his
leash longingly but today I’ve decided that the house needs major cleaning—this
must take precedence over our usual daily trip to the Columbia River.
I’ve found that many chores have been forgotten during my concentration on getting the book done. For instance
there is dust on every available surface, including baseboards, tables, and
window ledges. The bedroom smells like dirty dog—a trip to the groomers is
definitely in order. Poodles need regular
haircuts and Buddha is looking shaggy and smells like pond scum.
Underneath a pile of papers in my office I find unpaid
bills, to-do lists and an earring I’ve been missing for several weeks. Muddy
footprints lead the way from office to kitchen to bedroom. In the kitchen I
stop to make a cup of espresso, noticing the sticky stuff on the counter—hummingbird
water? While cleaning it up I see streaks of something on the fronts of the
cupboards and grab another sponge. In the bedroom clothes are stacked high on a
chair in the corner…as I begin to sort through them I’m amazed I’ve lived like
this for so long! Normally I’m fairly organized—cluttter drives me around the
bend.
I hear the washer sing its little song to tell me the load
is finished. When I get to the laundry room I’m astonished by the stacks of
clean towels, dishtowels, and bathmats. No wonder there’s nothing in the linen
closet. I load the smelly comforter the dog has been sleeping on into the dryer
hoping that it’s really clean. With our new low water use washer I’m never
quite sure. Unable to face the time it will take to put things where they belong I
head back upstairs empty-handed.
I know I could spend an entire day on the kitchen alone but
I’m determined to make a visible dent on the house today and so I head to the
living room carrying the vacuum. Although poodles don't shed, the cat does and there are dust bunnies under every piece of furniture.
Walking by my office a few minutes later I’m pulled to sit down and check
e-mail. And of course while I’m here I have to do a little bit of editing on
Book 2. And of course write a blog…
I'm not one for giving advice but stop everything you're doing and walk your dog. Best for you. Best for your dog.
ReplyDeleteThe photo tells me you are a paper and ink hoarder. The solution is simple: 1)Make sure you have automatic backup software operating on your computer, because you will be 2)detaching your printer, and 3)buying the next book you read in the form of electronic digits. Think of this as an environmental tree-killing problem, if that helps you.
ReplyDeleteI'll need a picture of your kitchen before I can make any more recommendations.
Seriously, Nikki, I use the "small chunk" method of cleaning. When I get up from my crowded desk to get a cup of coffee, I take two dirty cups to the kitchen sink. I go out to get the morning paper, I walk around the block. I go to fix lunch, I load some dishes in the washer. You can do it!
Thanks Stephen and Dane--woke up this morning to blue skies--dog is definitely going to the river today! House cleaning can wait.
ReplyDeleteSamantha Smith
ReplyDeleteThat's not an actual picture of your office, is it? Sometimes I have to tell myself no email until chores are done. The computer is such a time suck!!
No! not my real office--if it was I might have to light a match! Things haven't gotten quite that bad yet...and yes, computer does tend to hold one in its grip...
DeleteHeavy duty housework is good therapy. Gives the mind a rest and leaves you with concrete but shortlived achievement. Having said that your reference to dust: For instance there is dust on every available surface, including baseboards, tables, and window ledges. put me in mind Quentin Crisp once said - along the lines of 'once you have dust why disturb it? No one will notice another layer.'
ReplyDeleteHey, I like that! Just another layer...and yes, housework can be very therapeutic, like going for a run (which I never do)...Thanks for the comment, Mike.
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