I am in the middle of a spring cleaning frenzy.
Maybe it’s the startling blue skies and sunshine that sent me into overdrive.
Maybe it’s the return to feeling almost normal after a week of being laid low by a cold. (And reclining brought me closer to the floor where the dust bunnies live.)
Maybe it’s just that I’ve been doing spring cleaning since August and this time I really want to get the job done.
I finally realized today what I had been doing wrong all these years. I’m still cleaning the way I did when I was 10 and we kids were assigned a rotation of rooms to clean every Saturday.
If it was my turn to clean the living room and it was Therese’s turn to clean the dining room, you can be sure I got started first and chucked all the shoes and newspapers and toys into the dining room.
Voila! Living room cleaned.
And I’ve been cleaning that way ever since, only Therese isn’t there to clean the room I’ve just filled up.
So today, the card table with the wobbly leg got marched out to the car on its final journey to Goodwill.
The assortment of wood craft pieces got thrown into a bag that is also headed for Goodwill along with the grill grate I bought at an estate sale, probably thinking I would turn it into something amazing. Someone else will have to do that when they stumble across it at the thrift store.
I even pulled out the trunk insert that Therese had told me I should store under my chaise to hide all my unsorted bits and bobs.
Today they got sorted, marked for sale, tossed away, or thrown in the Goodwill bag. And the trunk insert got a sale sticker slapped on it and made its way to the garage.
So the sun room is clean. And I am well pleased.
Until I look at the dining room.
Isn’t it Therese’s turn to clean a room?