Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework,
with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled,
the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.
~Simone de Beauvoir
We are blessed with a string of warm, beautiful days here in Jersey. Weather that rivals any gorgeous summer day. What better time to throw open every window and scrub the past 4 days of stomach flu and strep throat germs off of the walls, floorboards and bathrooms.
So, I took to spring cleaning yesterday as some take to madness. It started when I stood in the front doorway watching CB walk out to the bus and noticed for the billionth time all the little gnatty bug carcasses peppering our white alcove. Though our entryway has looked disgustingly morbid for about 6 months, this was finally the day I couldn't take it any longer and before CB even made it down the driveway and on the bus, I was already out with wet towels and a bucket washing the death away. Looking at bug carnage didn't seem to be a fitting way to welcome guests into our home.
I aired out the house and cleaned the things that get neglected - the kitchen back splash, the dust bunnies behind furniture, the dust caked in the slats of the ceiling vents, the forgotten crumbs and lint underneath the area rugs, the handrail up the stairs and the little finger prints along the walls. I went deep.
A good spring cleaning is necessary not just for a house, but for a soul. It feels like a fresh start. The practice of optimism instead of futility - as if everything I put in order and scrub clean won't just get muddied up again during the next season of living. Yet, I do it anyway because the smell of white vinegar and fresh air makes me believe that I've regained control and order... if even for a moment. That somehow I've erased the unpleasantries and polished all good things to a shine.