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Let's not 'spring' into cleaning
When the mercury climbs above 70 degrees, the female subconscious whispers, "Shake the rugs." When the breezes of May and June toss the scent of lilacs across the front porch, the female psyche says, "Mix some Clorox water and wipe down the shower."
I don't know why springtime awakens the female cleaning instinct. When I should be out for a walk, relaxing with a glass of lemonade, gathering a few tulips, I find myself behind the sofa, scrubbing the floor boards in my yellow rubber gloves. It makes no sense.
I feel it happening again. Deep within me, the spring cleaning instinct is stirring, compelling me to act. But this year, I am resolved to resist. I want to plant flowers, edge the lawn, get new patio furniture. So I'm fighting the primal urge to take my drapes to the cleaners. When the little voice in my head whispers, "Go behind the sofa, and bring the vacuum," I'm shouting, "No!" When it says, "Get the brush attachment and take care of that lint on the refrigerator coils," I'm putting my hands over my ears and chanting, "You can't make me, you can't make me."
This kind of behavior alarms my family, but so far it's working. Except in the middle of the night. That's when the voices are loudest. If I awaken at 3 a.m., I hear them telling me, "Get up, use the dust rag, no one will hear you." I firmly reply that dusting can wait until August. The voices don't always listen.
I'm not making up that part about August. I once read a study on spring cleaning. (Yes, somebody did one.) It appeared in a woman's magazine a few years back, and it supported the claim that deep cleaning is best saved for the fall.
During the summer, everyone spends more time outside. They get dirty, and they track that dirt into the house every night. Most people leave their windows open, allowing more dust and pollen inside than usual.
It's much more efficient to do a thorough cleaning at the end of the summer, when everyone is preparing to shut their houses against the coming cold.
During the winter months we stay inside, where we can enjoy the antiseptically clean atmosphere.
I whole-heartedly agree. Of course, I also agree with any study that says we should put off deep cleaning all together, unless it's done by professionals who get paid for that particular privilege.
I prefer to clean when there's nothing on television, nobody at home, and a house full of company due to arrive in fifteen minutes. I can get a lot done when I'm desperate.
But I know that it's only a matter of time. One of these days, the spring cleaning voices will grow so loud that I'll finally listen. I'll take down the pictures and wipe the walls. I'll blast the cobwebs from the ceiling corners and get the lint off those pesky refrigerator coils.
Until then, I'll stay outside as long as I can, enjoying the spring weather and the company of the other fine women who are taking walks and drinking lemonade, instead of staying home to disinfect their showers.
It's too much fun, sitting at the ball park, eating sunflower seeds and cheering for the home team, to postpone that time in favor of compulsive vacuuming. Spring cleaning may be a powerful instinct, but so is survival.
In spite of the voices, I can say that I have my priorities straight. Now, would somebody please hide my bottle of Pledge?