I hate cleaning. Maybe "hate" is a rather strong word. Let's just say that once a week I get out the old cleaners and rags and the vacuum and make the place acceptable. Because, you see, here's the rub (no pun intended - which reminds me that I told 10 word play jokes to a crowded room hoping to make everyone laugh. No pun in ten did.) - where was I? Oh yes - the rub: I like a clean house. I really do. And I even like the feeling once I'm done - like right now. I have just finished cleaning and it feels as wonderful as a Friday at 5 p.m. when work is packed up stowed away for the weekend.
So here's where today's gratitude comes in: I live in a small (and charming) apartment above the stable: great room, bedroom, laundry/mud room and bathroom - maybe 700 square feet. It's all the space I need, especially given that I'm not one of those people who collects "stuff." My weekly cleaning ritual takes thirty minutes at most. I've lived in much larger places - two hours and maybe even three to get the place cleaned. Back in the day I hired someone to do that whenever I could.
So I am extremely grateful that cleaning is only a thirty minute chore and that being done makes me feel this good. I admit, it's not exactly a spring clean. I don't climb a ladder to dust the blades of the fan and the windows only get a thorough cleaning once a year. As for the inside of my non-self-cleaning oven - you don't want to look.
Still - the dog hair is disposed of and the bathroom sink taps are shiny. That's enough to make me a happy camper.
I hear ya. It was a surprise to me when I realized I like washing dishes. You start with ugly disorder and end up with sparkling clean tidy. One of the simple joys in life.
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