I hosted my dad for dinner last night, and mentioned that I was spring cleaning this week.
"Spring cleaning?" he asked. "What kind of things do you do for that?" (seriously--he asked this. Kinda makes me wonder about the nooks and crannies over at his place....)
"Well...you know...dusting and vacuuming under furniture and washing baseboards. Stuff like that."
"Who cares about that stuff?" he asked. "Nobody notices it."
It was a fair inquiry. I mean--there is a big gap between Clean and Clean Enough. I have spent the past four years in the latter category. And I have to confess that I was pondering his point while I was systematically taking down every book on my floor to ceiling bookshelves to dust them off and wipe the shelves. Would anyone ever care?
But then, when I was done with the shelves, and dusting behind the leather club chair, and mopping the floor, and washing the window, I took a step back and breathed a deep sigh.
It was contentment. I felt better. I felt better about myself and the day and even the world (okay...so maybe not that last part. I'm getting carried away...).
So, yes, I suppose that it is highly possible that no one will notice the clean new lampshades that I soaked in the bathtub, or that there is no dirt behind my books, or that the floor under the chair is sparkling. But simple contentment is hard to come by, and if a clean library and white lampshades will bring it to me, then who cares if no one else notices!?
Well, I'm off to see if the covers on my sofa can be washed in the machine. And considering that there is a discernible layer of dog slobber on them (yes, my dogs get on the sofa. They are terribly spoiled.), I imagine that someone would probably notice if I cleaned them or not.
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