Carolyn
J. Rose
Nothing
can give me a bad case of but-first disease like spring cleaning.
I
need to scrub the kitchen floor, but first I need to sweep the patio. But
before that I should finish the transplanting and mulch-spreading. Those
projects are contributing to the mud and bark on the patio.
Once
those chores are done, however, the floor will be put off again because first I
should clean the countertops. Before that, I should clean out the drawers and
cabinets. And before that I should vacuum the high corners where spiders love
to build their webs.
As
a result, the floor is days—perhaps weeks—from a condition even approaching
clean.
I,
on the other hand, am closer to understanding the frustration my mother felt
when I railed against spring chores.
But
how could I not complain? They came at such an inconvenient time. Winter was
finally in retreat. Mud Season had begun in the Catskill
Mountains. I longed to be in pursuit of sensation—the feel of the
earth, the crackling of melting ice, the drip of and rush of water on
hillsides, the bright blooms of forsythia, the songs of returning birds.
And
the chore list seemed endless. There were storm windows to be taken down and
stored in the attic while screens were sprayed off and installed. Lawns had to
be raked and brush cut. Gardens had to be cleared of dead plants and seeds had
to be planted after the soil was turned. Winter clothing had to be cleaned and
packed away in boxes with moth balls. Closets had to be cleaned out and furniture
vacuumed.
I
rushed, I tried to find shortcuts, I whined, and I did a sloppy job—sometimes
on purpose. These weren’t “my” tasks and the doing of them wasn’t according to
“my” agenda.
Now,
however, these are my tasks and I set the agenda. Now I “get it.” And now I
mostly accept the process of doing them. After all, it means that spring is
here once more. Each task is, in a weird way, a celebration of a trip around
the sun completed and a season of growth begun. I tackle them with attitude and
energy I didn’t feel over the winter.
Except
for scrubbing that kitchen floor.
I
can’t seem to work up a good attitude or a burst of energy for that.
Which
explains why my but-first list keeps getting longer.
