I’m Guessing Heloise Won’t Go For This

I tried to find the number to call Heloise to see if she’s available to do my spring cleaning this year. I have other things I’d rather do, but I have company coming and the house is not spotless. Well, maybe there’s an inch or two where it’s spotless, but that’ll change before the end of the day.

I think maybe we have a tendency to get all worked up about things others are talking about. Like people warning us about the asteroid about to collide with our planet. Then we heard, gratefully, “It isn’t going to happen because it will miss us by 17,000 miles.” Spring housecleaning can be like that, at least the part about “It isn’t going to happen…”

Seriously, though, what’s the big deal about spring cleaning anyway? It’s not like we’re going to pull up carpets and take them to the clothesline. I would, but I don’t have a clothesline. And I don’t have that pounder thing either. I used to have a tennis racket that might have worked, but I think I sold that at the garage sale when we moved the last time.

And that stuff about turning your mattress? Let me just tell you, years ago Paul and I discovered it doesn’t work with a waterbed.

You know, don’t you, that there is a danger we Americans can get overly fanatical about almost anything? Housecleaning could be one of those things. I mean, if we do get serious about this spring cleaning thing, there’s a definite risk of developing the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and who wants “OCD” to become a highlighted area on a resume?

Besides, aren’t scientists I listen to saying we run the risk of becoming susceptible to all kinds of ailments if we go around killing every germ that just tries to quietly live its own life? Well, they should be, if they aren’t. We maybe just need to toughen up and dust a bit less for the good of our family’s health. We could organize a movement and call it the “Dust Less Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Organisms Now.” I can see it now, DLSPCON.com. Nah, the next thing you know, someone will hijack the letters and make it stand for “Don’t Let Some People Come Over Now” and that’s rude.

Don’t get me wrong, I love company and I like a clean house as much as the next gal. I love it when you’re confident that even if guests accidently open the wrong door, or intentionally slip out-of-sight to check out the basement or investigate the drawers in the upstairs bedrooms, that everything is in place. I also love it when they don’t.

Yes, it’s a great feeling when the house is in perfect order and you can just sit down and relax. I’m older now, but I still remember doing that when I was a child and Mom was ready for her ladies club to visit.

Honestly, though, none of those ladies in Mom’s club ever did wander off and do those inspections Mom warned us they might do. Is there any reason to think “company” has changed over the years? I know just about everything else has, but, company?

I guess, though, deep down I want to do spring cleaning. The “want” just needs to rise to the surface a little faster. I do love the scents of washed cabinets, shampooed carpets, fresh curtains, and polished furniture. I even love the smell of washed walls though some think that’s a bit extreme. I love the gleam on bathroom fixtures and counters, the spotless mirrors and windows. I love knowing if someone bumps a lampshade, they won’t cough because of dust. I get definite satisfaction from discovering my “clutter” delights someone who will put it to better use.

So, I’m ready to start.

As for the windows, I think it’s just best to pray for rain.

Clutter, hmmm. Here’s a tip I doubt Heloise would offer. Spend ten minutes gathering up everything that’s out of place, drop it in a big box, mark it “Important. Sort Later.” Then, have someone move it to the garage. Later, is, by definition, not now. That definition will still be there tomorrow.

Oh, phooey. I know spring cleaning is going to bother me if I don’t do something about it. I guess I could at least change the vacuum cleaner’s bag. Heloise isn’t on my speed dial, so I think I’ll just ask my husband if he’d mind doing that for me. After all, my back has been bothering me a little lately.

Adobe Photoshop PDFMargery Kisby Warder seeks to glorify God by mingling truth and humor in her writing and speaking.
She and Paul sometimes get out of work by admitting they’re retired, especially if it’s to give three granddaughters
some attention.   Her novel, Leaves That Did Not Wither, is available online or in stores.
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  1. We had “company” who prowled through our belongings. He later reported details on my underwear to a group of people.

    Your blog post reminded me of this and now I feel like the need to spring clean. I’m sure if I stay at the computer long enough the urge will subside.

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