Thursday, September 3, 2020

Bring on 2020

I caught the cleaning bug after everyone else had moved on to hobbies.  I spent the first month of Pandemic '01 reading 23 books on my tablet, then I moved on to exercise and gardening.  By the time cleaning cropped up, the house was more than ready for attention.

I started with a battery powered rotary brush (with 3 interchangeable heads) to work on the grit and grime in the shower.  I went through a variety of iterations of mopping devices for the tile floors before I came up with a suitable solution (the perfect solution would be for me to feel comfortable having cleaners in the house once again) and secured the necessary accoutrements.  

I perfected the proper combination of agents which make my kitchen counters shiny and bright.  

Little Cuter found and ordered us the perfect light vacuum that works on tile and carpet and whose battery lasts as long as I do - about 15 minutes.  It's lovely to have an appliance that's exactly as vigorous as I am; it tells me to sit down and take a break when we're both exhausted.  

I've tried to do one project and finish it, a novel concept for me. 

Tackling the library, I cleared off the big leather lounge chair, moved boxes to the garage, and unplugged devices which haven't been operational since 2015.  I created a little reading nook with a table lamp we haven't used since Big Cuter went off to college.  I velcroed the surge protector to the windowsill and installed the cord clips Little Cuter put in my Xmas stocking a while ago.

I was on a roll.  Basking in the joy of a clean and organized workspace, I moved on to the other area which was overrun with debris - the laundry room.

No one has been able to come up with a way to make the space more user friendly.  Many have made suggestions, all of which end up with major construction.  I never cared enough to undertake that project, although I made some minor adjustments along the way.  

I bought a square shelf at the Container Store and settled it over the sink.  No longer did my keys disappear into the abyss (one of the issues is poor lighting), lodging themselves in the stopper, hiding beneath whatever fell in when I dumped my purse into the (now covered) sink.  

In the long run, that just made a flatter surface on which to pile things I couldn't quite get rid of, or deal with, or hold in my hand any more.  As I worked my way across the counter, I found a 2019 Christmas present SIR mistakenly sent to my house instead of to FlapJilly's nanny's abode.  I found a dozen or so Bed Bath and Beyond coupons (they don't expire, and arrive with alarming regularity, and I can't throw them out) and newspaper pages filled with touristy ideas which are no longer operating to appeal to visitors who are no longer visiting.

There were a lot of vases, some clothes to be donated and some to be discarded, and then there were last year's holiday cards.  I think I put them aside so TBG could read them before I sent the picture parts on to St Jude's Ranch and recycled the rest.  

But there they were and everything else was put away so I brought them out to Douglas and flipped through them as TBG watched basketball.  I smiled at my friends' words and grandchildren and vacations.  I skipped the long letters, having read them in real time.  And then, at the very end, came this, on the back of warm wishes from FAMBB:

I laughed for a very long time.  A very very very long time.  There may have been a few tears mixed in, but mostly I was laughing.   

Then I wrote her an email explaining the circumstances of my discovery and asked if I could use it and she wrote back right away and it was as if 51 years hadn't passed at all.  

She explained that there  were a lot of good reasons for her to look forward to 2020..... until there weren't any more. 

Bring on 2020........ it's good for a laugh, for an opportunity to reconnect, for a bit of respite from the sameness.  

25 weeks and counting since life was anything like normal.  

Sure..... Bring on 2020..... 

The snort/sigh/sound I am making can best be described as rueful.

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