Cleaner

Clicking away on getting the kitchen cleaned up. I’ve accumulated two boxes of stuff from two sets of cabinets already. The stove is shining, much cleaner than it has been since we moved in three years ago. The sink, as ever, is shining. I help with the dishes, a job that I have avoided my entire life because when I was a kid it was always my punishment and therefore I never got to see it for what it is—a job—instead of something to dread.

On top of this all, the laundry room is cleaned up and has stayed that way. The front porch could use a little bit of a sweep, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was. The kitchen table, one of my worst dump spots, has stayed relatively dump-free.

I can’t help but be excited about all of this. Having never had a ‘cleaning habit’ instilled in me, it feels refreshing to be formulating one. Granted, other parts of the house are still a mess—the bathrooms are in pitiful shape and the kids’ rooms are not much better—but seeing how not-quite-two-weeks has made a difference gives me hope.

It feels weird saying that I’m excited about the probably thirty minutes, total, that I spend cleaning every day, but I am.

So that’s cool.