The first, and most important step in the cleaning process is, of course, the selection of suitable cleaning music. I happen to be in possession of one of the greatest Pandora stations ever made, however, so this initial step posed very little challenge to me. A soundtrack of awesome was, therefore, hooked up to the Small Speakers of Loudness, joy was obtained, and I commenced to step two.
The second step of a cleaning rampage is almost as important as the first. One must get organized! When faced with the sort of horrifying carnage that was my kitchen this morning it is far too easy to get overwhelmed and shift from solid, results-achieving resolve into dithering non-effective distractability. Thus, walking into the kitchen I realized that I was going to have to divide and conquer. I'm pretty sure that we used right up to the penultimate dish Sunday night in the dispersal of delicious baked goods. Hence, the mountain of dishes in the sink had to be sorted into manageable piles. The kitchen itself was marked out into quadrants.
Thus, bit by bit; quadrant by quadrant, I slowly worked my way over the entire kitchen in step three--actually getting down to work. Dishes, counters and stove, little island, table, floor, garbage. Each section completed before the next was begun. This is the only way I can finish a big job. At last, I stepped back and beheld the beauty of my work. Here, where once there was a dark hole of filth and grime, instead shone a clean, bright open place of light and joy. Things could be cooked and eaten here without fear of disease and death! What a joy to behold.
As it turns out, I find the act of cleaning to be remarkably cathartic and soothing. It is an instant gratification sort of activity, in which the results obtained are directly proportionate to the effort given. I would qualify this with the exclusion of actual custoding jobs, in which the daily repetition of your work (finding the same spaces re-dirtied over and over again) strip it of meaning and satisfaction, rendering it as soul numbing as any menial job. Hence, I shall continue to sporadically rampage against filth in my apartment, but avoid custodial employment in future. And because of that decision, I could stand back from my work and bask in that beautiful 5 seconds of calm satisfaction that come to one who has just spent two and a half hours cleaning a kitchen. Of course, after those five seconds have passed your roommate comes home and cooks herself lunch. But whilst they last, your soul is really at peace.
After I reveled in my kitchen for a few minutes I turned my attention to the living room. I admit, here, to an ulterior motive. My life has, historically, been plagued by the curse of the unrighteous. Which is to say, I lay up treasures (see "anything") unto myself and they becomes slippery that I cannot posses them. I can and will lose just about anything. But in this apartment the problem has intensified ten fold. I cannot even begin to count the number of things which have gone missing from my life, from the large bag of clothing which needed to be returned, to a blues CD, to 5 pens. The clothing has been most pressing on my consciousness of late, as the money which it represents would be quite nice to have back. Thus, not only was I attempting to clean, organize, and neaten this space, but also to discover some of my missing items. I am happy to report success in the recovery of the very bag of clothing in which I was most concerned. But that aside, I received a double portion of contentment upon completion of both rooms. I could stand at my front door and look either right or left, and either choice would give me a clean, sparkling view. To what extent was there peace in my soul and love in my heart? I can't even say. But you can be certain that it was vast.
Considering the heat of the day, I took the next two hours to eat lunch and rest a smidge. Having rested, I set off to work. As I drove, I realized that I felt a warm enveloping of satisfaction settling over me. The best way to describe it is to say simply that, had my father popped into existence in the passenger seat next to me, and asked me what I'd done with myself, I would have been able to answer him completely guilt-free. I cleaned my house in the morning, and in the afternoon I went to work. What responsibility is this? There is no shame in a day spent so. Unfortunately, this realization led to another not quite so comforting--which was the rather pathetic novelty of such a day in my life. But what is a realization like that, but an opportunity for improvement? Here's to more days of productivity, and far less of sloth and uselessness!
But the piece d' resistance, the crowning moment of my day came while I was at work. My shift passed more quickly than normal in my happy and contented mood, plus, about two hours in, I found myself blessed with a cool breeze from the doors behind me. The store was slow, so I hazarded a quick expedition to ascertain the state of the weather. Imagine my joy to behold a summer thunderstorm rolling in over the mountain, competing with the sunset to see which could make the evening more dramatic and beautiful. As I came back inside I was delighted to discover that I could still hear the thunder rumbling around the valley. Not long after it was time for my 30 minute break and, craving the fresh air, I decided to wander out to the wee patch of grass and soak some in. Why have I never thought of this before? And it was like a movie, for the first time in my life, I got to my car and closed the windows just as the first drops of rain began falling. Then, as I walked into the building and put my stuff back into my locker, rain started pouring down so hard that you could hear it inside. How perfect! So instead of going back to work inside, I went back to work...outside. I walked right back out the door I'd just come through, and around to the guest entrance across the front. I came in speckled by raindrops and absolutely, thoroughly, and unequivocally happy. Is there any more perfect end to a lovely summer's day than a sudden thunderstorm and cloudburst just as the sun is setting? I cannot imagine one.
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