Cleaning

Cleaning house, cleaning life. It's something I like to do, but not on the same day. Today I'm in the mood to clean house and chose to do the upstairs. What's the big deal? It's a big house, and it's an old house. Truly it is never sparkling clean, partly because I'm not one to scrub anything on my hands and knees, but mostly the reason for not being sparkly clean is that the house is old. It was built in 1792. That's not a typo -- 1792 -- after the Revolution and before the Civil War. I live in a house that has a New York State historical marker in front of it. Wow.

For those who live in relatively new houses, let me tell you that nothing but nothing grows cobwebs and creates dust like a house 216 years old. Everything falls from above via the cracks in the old floors.

So today is upstairs cleaning day, which doesn't happen as often as it should. Nobody comes up here unless they're first-time visitors who are enthralled with a house this old and want to see everything. Therefore, a little dust (or a lot) pretty much goes unnoticed by me for a couple of weeks, and my husband does not care if I clean once a week, once a month or once a year.

Life changes -- would I ever suspect that I'd be happy and content being a "housewife?" I never was before; so before I wasn't. At this age, and being deliciously retired, it's more than being a housewife. It's being able to organize my life pretty much the way I want to. Clean today? Maybe. Do laundry tomorrow? Probably. Blog, knit, read, play Pogo games? Yep!! The limitations I have are those I place on myself.