A good memory is the enemy of spring cleaning. My intentions are so good as I start picking up a week (OK...a month's) worth of this that and the other. I'm going to pitch! I'm going to be ruthless! And then my hand comes up with something given to me by someone dear who has left the roster and I'm caught up in a tornado of memories and feelings. For example, the pictures on my piano all need a good cleaning. I need to take them all off, then take off the lace runner on which they perch and give a good dusting and polishing to the top of the instrument. Before replacing them on the freshly laundered lace I need to clean all the glass in the frames, right? Wrong. On the photograph of my very handsome and muscular elder brother I notice lipstick smudges, faint, but definitely there. My mother used to kiss this photo every day for years. Well, thinking about that and about her doesn't help my efficiency all that much, not to mention thinking about Wayne who died in a car crash at 22.
So off I go to the bedroom to tackle the closet. Three whole blouses and two skirts actually hit the "give away" pile before I come across the silver scarf an old boyfriend gave to me when I was 21. It still looks wonderful, which is more than I can say for the old beau whom I saw recently. Thank you, Lord, for answering THAT prayer with a resounding "no"! But the scarf sets me thinking about the senior prom and whatever happened to so-and-so, and somehow a half hour disappears and I need a cup of tea.
But reaching for a clean tea cup I find two screaming blue plastic cups with bright yellow screw-on lids and am transported back to the days of my boys' childhood. I remember buying these in Tesco's in North Wales when the kids were about 4 and 5. Our host, Uncle Jim, only had Waterford glasses, and the responsibility was too much for my nerves. Now I'm missing my "babies" and Uncle Jim (in different ways, happily) but still missing them all. Sherry is looking better than tea right about now, and although I should chuck it all and go to the gym, I'll probably just go take a nap.
And there, in a nutshell, is why when you come to my house, you have a 50/50 chance of sticking to the kitchen floor. Ah well. It's almost warm enough to open the windows. I'll open the back door, too and let the wind just blow through!
So off I go to the bedroom to tackle the closet. Three whole blouses and two skirts actually hit the "give away" pile before I come across the silver scarf an old boyfriend gave to me when I was 21. It still looks wonderful, which is more than I can say for the old beau whom I saw recently. Thank you, Lord, for answering THAT prayer with a resounding "no"! But the scarf sets me thinking about the senior prom and whatever happened to so-and-so, and somehow a half hour disappears and I need a cup of tea.
But reaching for a clean tea cup I find two screaming blue plastic cups with bright yellow screw-on lids and am transported back to the days of my boys' childhood. I remember buying these in Tesco's in North Wales when the kids were about 4 and 5. Our host, Uncle Jim, only had Waterford glasses, and the responsibility was too much for my nerves. Now I'm missing my "babies" and Uncle Jim (in different ways, happily) but still missing them all. Sherry is looking better than tea right about now, and although I should chuck it all and go to the gym, I'll probably just go take a nap.
And there, in a nutshell, is why when you come to my house, you have a 50/50 chance of sticking to the kitchen floor. Ah well. It's almost warm enough to open the windows. I'll open the back door, too and let the wind just blow through!
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