Flexing my muscles
It’s a sunny Sunday morning and I have been doing windows. Actually, before you begin to think that it means I am a good housekeeper, I must tell you that we have had approximately 10 grandchildren born since I last did the outside of a window. But it does, nonetheless, feel good and it’s nice to know that there are real trees and houses and streets outside that I had never actually seen before.
The occasion of the cleaning, for after all, let’s face it, it takes an occasion of major importance, is my daughter’s upcoming marriage. As I began to look at the house through the eyes of my expected visitors, I realized that clean windows might be a nice touch. I most likely will attack the dust on the bookshelves and books not to mention the blades of the ceiling fans. Who knows, even another coat of whitewash (we’ve never gotten around to painting the walls with real paint) is possible. After all, giving birth to her was the easy part, raising her, a bit more of a challenge, but getting ready for the wedding gives me the opportunity to flex my muscles in a new and literal way. After all, this is the last of the children to marry. I have to get it right this time.
So on go the gloves. The bleach is at the ready. Every mirror will sparkle; every dust bunny will be evicted. This is a full-scale operation. All visitors between now and the wedding will be issued cleaning supplies and expected to use them.
Or at least that’s the way I feel today.