Sign In | Create an Account | Welcome, . My Account | Logout | Subscribe | Submit News | Home RSS
 
 
 

Moseyin’ Along

Spring Cleaning Demands Emotional Detachment

March 26, 2015
Westfield Republican

Now that the calendar has turned to spring, we're duty bound to focus on addressing the annual challenge known as "Spring Cleaning."

Granted, this ritual was designed by women made of sterner stuff, women who lived in a different world, women who understood the meaning of tradition!

If you've Moseyed Along with me for any time at all, you know I'm not one of those women!

Still, every spring, I can almost hear my sweet mother whisper in my ear, "Joyce, it's time to clean the woodwork!"

My job, as the youngest and shortest member of the family, was always the cleaning of miles and miles of white mopboard in our two story, five-bedroom home. I may be exaggerating, but only slightly, when I say I began in March and finished just before Thanksgiving. Well, it seemed like that, anyway.

So now that March 20 has made it official and spring is upon usregardless of the weather I'm once-again hearing the siren song of my maternal ancestors telling me to start the spring-cleaning process.

I know myself well enough by now to avoid starting with some large portion of the project say the kitchen.

So, this year I started small, with my two-drawer bed-side table.

Last week, I gathered my dust cloth, an empty wastebasket, a box for Really-Important-Stuff (save-ables) and another for Goodwill donations. Once I turned my iPod to some relaxing cleaning music, I was ready to begin.

At first, I made remarkable progress. I quickly threw out a small wad of dingy cotton balls, a partial package of aging and sticky cough drops, a couple of hankies for the wash basket and a sock that had lost its mate.

All seemed to be going well until my excavation came to the lowest layer in the drawer. Then the project hit an insurmountable snag. I had reached the final resting place of family greeting cards.

As the bedside clock quietly ticked off the minutes, then the hours, I dipped back into this stack of love notes I had gathered over the years.

Birthday messages included long-ago greetings painstakingly lettered by Becky, Sherri and Tim during their early school years. Just because the three former kids are now all over the age of 50 didn't make these cards any less precious than they were when I first received them from pudgy, sticky fingers. These, of course, were true keepsakes.

There were Mother's Day cards ranging from "for the bestest Mom in the world" to "Happy Mother's Day from your Kid and Kid-in-Law."

And there were anniversary cards celebrating five years, ten years, twenty-five.to the final one, fifty-seven years. How could I part with such memories of a love that still fills my heart?

So, I did what any sentimental housewife would do. I read each card, dusted it off, then put in the Really Important Stuff Box.

By the time I finished "cleaning out" the two-drawer stand, over half of the contents had simply been moved from one place to another. The things I had decided I could discard barely covered the bottom of the wastebasket.

And, as far as the Goodwill Box is concerned, it may take quite a while to fill it with items I'm actually willing to part with.

 
 
 

 

I am looking for:
in:
News, Blogs & Events Web