The Cleaning Ritual

Last week I gave myself permission to be unbearably positive. I also set myself some demanding targets; I was to write at least one short story, one poem, one blog and finish a chapter. I wrote three short stories, one poem and one blog. I didn't finish the chapter because it’s Chapter Nine that needs finishing. Besides I need to read back through everything first. I need to be in the right frame of mind for Chapter Nine.

Let’s set a new target right now then: Chapter Nine by Monday 6^th April. The problem with these targets and this level of positivity is that I do not have a place or even a room of my own. I like most other writers do not have the luxury (if you can call it that) of just writing all day long.

I have a job, a family, two dogs and the cleaning itch. It’s spring that brings it on. A little bit of sunshine and all the dust, smudges, kitchen grease and general human mank need cleaning away. Why? Because it’s symbolic, wiping away the deadness of the winter months and bringing the freshness of the spring into the home. Quite how this involves cleaning behind and underneath both the fridge and the cooker is beyond me. I don’t feel I was procrastinating, maybe every piece of glass in the kitchen did need washing in soap and vinegar, and buffing with a soft cloth so that each time you open the cupboard your hit with the kind of sparkle you get in a jewelers.

There is something restfully rhythmic in the cleaning ritual. When my hands are cleaning, washing, scrubbing, polishing and buffing my mind is resting. I know it sounds bonkers, but at the right time the cleaning ritual is mentally resting, refreshing and meditative. I bit like weaving. I bit like crafting.

I had this target (another one) I was going to do the kitchen over the weekend; ready for Easter. Once the kitchen was done I would be able to do the eggs. I've seen them on Pinterest, someone has used dollies as stencils. As all my crockery is blue and white, mostly willow pattern, I intend to do the eggs in willow blue and white. I have given myself some interesting headaches as a result of blowing the eggs and we have been eating a lot of egg based food stuffs because I want a pretty Easter tree.

Because I want it to be nice. But, I've a sort of stress head-ache, there is a pain in the back of my neck and across my shoulders. (I got a poem out of it!) .

I have these expectations, an expectation that come Easter Day there will be a beautifully laid out table and we will all remember it with delight. If I’m not careful I’m going to be disappointed. If I’m not careful I’m going to be so knackered that I won’t be able to manage a mini egg.

Perhaps I ought to defer the targets; after all I am supposed to be on holiday.