Friday night, I kicked everyone out of the house. I opened the windows and breathed in the fresh air. As soon as I heard the car door slam, I knew I was free. Even with the onslaught of Fall, it felt like an Indian summer with the warm breeze hugging every corner of my lovely abode.
I could have grabbed my purse and ran out to shop. Or ran out to have coffee with a friend. Or ran out to take a walk. A million things to do and only two hours to do them in. I stood out in my backyard, on my deck, and looked at the trees. Listened to the birds, and pondered life as I knew it. And then I put on my rubber gloves.
Squeeze me?
Yes, I went indoors, slapped on the rubbers and got to work. Removed one burner at a time and sprayed the inside of the oven with the most repelling oven cleaner known to mankind. I hid my nose under my t-shirt and turned on the exhaust fan. Inhaling the toxic fumes only made my existing cough even worse. And I scrubbed. Yes, I do not have a self-cleaning oven. You are looking at her. And for years, I have refused to bow down to peer pressure to get one. And the other pressure of hiring a cleaning lady. You see, I LIKE to clean. And for me, its therapy. I don't need a psychiatrist to tell me how I am feeling, what I am feeling and why I am feeling this way. My stove has all the answers. The harder it is to clean an item, the more I get out of it and walk away content and relieved.
If you want to really know me, talk to me when I am cleaning. Especially when I am mad. I have been known to stop, in the middle of an argument, grab a Windex bottle, some paper towels and start wiping down a counter, much to the surprise of the other person.
When I am happy, I clean. When I am pissed off, I clean. When I am sad, I clean. When I want to reflect and be myself, I clean. And if the world is a mess around me, I cannot sit down until its clean.
Wash away my sins, impurities, negativity and the wrongs in my life. Order to the chaos. And it is the only thing I can control.
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