Cleanliness

They say that cleanliness is next to godliness, but I've been cleaning all morning and don't feel particularly deified. I just feel a bit drained. And relaxed. And pleased with myself. My bathroom has never looked cleaner (as long as you don't examine the corners too closely).  

And a bit repulsed, if I'm honest, at the sheer amount of dust and hair that seems to accumulate in a month. I only clean once a month. What? Any more often just feels ridiculous to me. And this is an improvement. When I lived alone, in Alaska, I only cleaned three times a year, with the changing of the seasons: Autumn, Winter and Construction. There's no such thing as Spring and Summer in Anchorage, Alaska, only Construction, when the roads are clear enough, and thawed enough, to tear up in prepartion of new potholes.

But I clean more regularly now, and, I enjoy it. I'm one of those weirdos who actually doesn't mind scrubbing down a toilet or a shower. I feel, in a small way, as if I'm putting the world to rights. And when I'm done, I'm done for a month.

Probably the worst thing about cleaning today was the amount of spiders that I've encountered. Is there some Great Spider Migration that I'm unaware of, because I kept running across the buggers as I cleaned. Small ones. Tiny ones. One scary looking one that I immediately squashed. (I have a very firm rule re the wildlife in my bedroom; if I don't see them, they get to live, but if I see them, THEY DIE.) 

But now the cleaning is done. The bathroom smells of glass cleaner, Formula 409 and Oxi-Clean. Astringent, comforting smells.

I'm sat on the couch in my bedroom, with a stick of sweet smelling incense burning, and all seems right with the world.

No, I don't feel very deified, at the moment, but I do feel comfy and content. I suppose that's just as good, if not better.