Though I’m not going to win any good housekeeping awards, I do keep my place pretty tidy. But come fall, I turn into a bit of a cleaning beast. Scuttling along the floorboards with a spray bottle, shimmying between heavy furniture with a mop, slithering under beds with the dust buster. Dust bunnies and lone Cheerios that made the break and rolled under the couch run when they see me coming. Only for that one day of no holds barred fall cleaning.
Not sure why everyone talks about going all out for spring cleaning, when you’re about to enter a season that you try to spend as much time as possible outside of your home. Now fall, that’s when months of gardening and games, visiting and barbeques have left their mark and are waving the white flag in defeat. Those telltale signs are about to be obliterated.
I come at the onslaught like Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, except I have a carpet sweeper packed high up to one shoulder and the feather duster pointed at the enemy in the other hand. Instead of her, you know, portable cannons. My intention is to go great guns at it, but there are so many items to move around and put away first. It seems, now that I have more time on my hands, my home has come to resemble Kindergarten Centres. I move my way through the day from my upstairs writing room to the downstairs laundry room, but also the little reading corner and the yoga area. Not sure when it became this way, but there are a number of books piled up on a side table in the living room and some yoga blocks and a mat just off to the side upstairs. People who bake or do crafts or hearty entertaining would have even busier Centres to clean.
Well, no matter, I’m still determined to get it all tidied up even though I have less gusto than I once did. In an effort to ensure there are the least amount of steps possible, cleaning has become like Tai Chai poses: Right Toes Grab Fallen Tea Towel; Rinse Cans Destined for Recycling and while at the sink Grasp The Scouring Pad.
At the end of my annual eight hour cleaning frenzy, I sit to rest and scan the room. Gleaming windows, floors that don’t leave dog hair on my socks, cupboards that have had hardened bits chiseled off. It makes me soften and, when I raise my well-earned glass of wine in a private toast, I remind myself to breath it all in. That sense of well-being from a job well done, the peace that comes from a well-organized home, the things I love all polished up and looking so nice.
Because in the next thought, I’m reminded that the cluttered chaos of the Christmas season is right around the corner. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But the thought was enough to get me up for a little top up of wine.
Sandy Bexon is stepping into retirement after over 35 years as a communications professional, reporter and writer. She lives in Red Deer.
