I spent the day elbow deep in boxes, cupboards and containers as I cleaned, sorted, moved, dumped and organised my living space.
My clothes are dirty, nails are soft, fingers look like prunes and kitchen looks like a tornado went through it - and I feel great.
I am right in the midst of spring cleaning and am totally loving it.
I always thought 'spring cleaning' was as passé as chicken à la king and cherry advocaat. I imagined it was something a 1950's housewife would do between baking cookies and waiting for her hair in rollers to dry. I never envisaged myself doing it, much less loving it (sure I clean, but not SPRING clean).
It all happened organically.
After Mission Defrostible I developed a burning desire to reconfigure my cupboards and cull a few items that haven't seen the light of day in five years. However I came down with a cold the following day, and have consequently spent the last week nursing my miserable self.
This uncharacteristic urge to be domestic began to feel like an itch that I couldn't scratch. With each passing day, the metaphorical itch turned into a virtual body rash and I was completely consumed by a yearning to rework my kitchen.
When I roused this morning, I let out a little yelp of delight. I could once again breathe out of both nostrils (woohoo). Within minutes of Patrick departing for work, I got straight into my cupboards and did not stop till he returned ten hours later.
It's now very late. I'm extremely tired and am struggling to string sentences together. There's a very young John Wayne on the TV, which would indicate that we are now in the wee hours of the morning. So goodnight for now, it's off to bed I go.
How does the story end?
Tomorrow I'll let you know.
Until then, allow things to evolve organically and it feels like you're living orgasmically.