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Cinderella ...
Jul. 30th, 2010 03:51 pmToday was cleaning day -- in preparation for the Parental Arrival tomorrow AM. (eep! o_o) Started around 10 AM, after a quick breakfast (and a couple of taped episodes of Divine Design -- you know, for inspiration). And I just finished at around 3:30. No lunch. No breaks. Nothing. Just clean, clean, clean until it's done. Because I'm one of those people who won't finish if I let myself stop. This is how much I hate cleaning. Love having a clean house, but hate getting it to that state on my own.
I also hate how fleeting that state of "perfect clean" is. I finish the last bit of dusting or whatever and step back and think to myself: "Wow, this place is freaking clean. I did that, and it looks GOOD." And I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, as well as this overall feeling of well-being ... of just how much I love my house and it loves me. For that moment in time, it's almost like the house wraps me in its arms to give me a big, squishy hug. Of course, about a nano-second later, the kiddo runs through the room carrying some sort of food item ... followed by the pin-headed dog, who, invariably, will have muddy paws ... or the hubby comes home and just dumps all his crap in the doorway ... or whatever. Any one of a hundred things that go on daily in this house. And the "clean" is done. The spell is broken. The house-hug is over. I think we still love each other, the house and I, but we go back to our normal ways -- living quietly side-by-side and feeling content with what we have.
Invariably, I think about Cinderella as I clean. Because ... well, cleaning makes me feel rather "Cinderella-ish". But without the fun songs, pretty dress, or cute mice. I keep waiting for Fae to turn into a coachman -- you know, like in the movie. But she never does. Really, I suppose that's just as well. I don't know what I would do with a coachman. I don't have a coach, although I suppose he could ride on top of the Volvo. If he managed to hang on tightly enough. Being a guy, though, I'm positive he would leave his shoes in the doorway, dirty dishes on the coffee table, and his things scattered throughout the house. So, no coachman for me. Better if Fae turns into a maid or something -- someone who could actually help me achieve and keep "perfect clean". Or, even better ... She could be a genie-dog. In disguise and living among humans. And then, when I discover this, she could grant me three wishes, at least one of which I could spend on regularly achieving and maintaining "perfect clean" in my house. I keep rubbing her head, but, so far ... no wishes. Ah well.
I also hate how fleeting that state of "perfect clean" is. I finish the last bit of dusting or whatever and step back and think to myself: "Wow, this place is freaking clean. I did that, and it looks GOOD." And I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, as well as this overall feeling of well-being ... of just how much I love my house and it loves me. For that moment in time, it's almost like the house wraps me in its arms to give me a big, squishy hug. Of course, about a nano-second later, the kiddo runs through the room carrying some sort of food item ... followed by the pin-headed dog, who, invariably, will have muddy paws ... or the hubby comes home and just dumps all his crap in the doorway ... or whatever. Any one of a hundred things that go on daily in this house. And the "clean" is done. The spell is broken. The house-hug is over. I think we still love each other, the house and I, but we go back to our normal ways -- living quietly side-by-side and feeling content with what we have.
Invariably, I think about Cinderella as I clean. Because ... well, cleaning makes me feel rather "Cinderella-ish". But without the fun songs, pretty dress, or cute mice. I keep waiting for Fae to turn into a coachman -- you know, like in the movie. But she never does. Really, I suppose that's just as well. I don't know what I would do with a coachman. I don't have a coach, although I suppose he could ride on top of the Volvo. If he managed to hang on tightly enough. Being a guy, though, I'm positive he would leave his shoes in the doorway, dirty dishes on the coffee table, and his things scattered throughout the house. So, no coachman for me. Better if Fae turns into a maid or something -- someone who could actually help me achieve and keep "perfect clean". Or, even better ... She could be a genie-dog. In disguise and living among humans. And then, when I discover this, she could grant me three wishes, at least one of which I could spend on regularly achieving and maintaining "perfect clean" in my house. I keep rubbing her head, but, so far ... no wishes. Ah well.
