Okay, so I brought the vacuum cleaner up from the basement yesterday and pushed it out of the way in the dining room, and still tripped on it every now and then. That was step one. G-d only knows how many times I glare at the innocent little machine (I can’t even complain that it’s a piece of shit, because it isn’t), propped up against the wall, begging me to take it upstairs and use it. I hate vacuuming. And what, it takes maybe all of 45 minutes to do all three floors? I make it a habit to ignore dust, so I can generally whiz through this tiny house. I hate the noise, I hate that the canister gets caught, and more often than not, I resort to unladylike words. Mieles are one of quietest kind. Still . . .
I shoved it sort of out-of-the way in my dining room, fully intending to reclaim my floors from what looks like shag carpet of dust bunnies, leaf pieces, general gradou; but somehow, stripping the bed, washing the sheets, blankets, and whites; handling the crock pot of black beans from the night before and setting another batch to cook (for upcoming church supper); steaming asparagus; boiling two artichokes w/ garlic, lemon, olive oil, then reducing the liquid for pasta; taking down all the laundry; re-making the bed; walking Lucy; and washing a big honking pile of dishes left me drained.
This morning I woke at eight, earlier than I’d wanted. My neighbor insists on talking on her cell phone outside in the space between the back of her house and the front of mine, where her voice projects very well through the open window of my second-floor bedroom. This is not a rare occurance, I might add. Nevertheless, somehow I managed to stay upright instead of crawling back under the covers. And once I was up, having my coffee, doing the usual FB and email-stuff, I found that I had energy for a change. I was going to be a house afire! My outlook was good, I was keeping the craziness of the world at bay, and I. Was. Going. To. Vacuum.
I pondered this difference, this optimism. Was it simply because the weather is cooler, two gorgeous days after a much-needed 24 hours of rain, taking the hour-long chore of watering off my to-do list? I can’t attributed it all to that. Was a shift in attitude due to a random lifting of what’s been a low-grade depression I didn’t even know I had? I mean, who feels optimistic in these crazy world times? I want to bottle it, follow whatever steps that led me to feel good when that tide of energy slowly wanes again, when everything seems so difficult and Takes So Much Energy.
I’m sure you know where this is going. After washing yesterday’s second wave of dishes, putting the duvet for my down quilt in the washer, handling yesterday’s batch of black beans and setting another one to cook, hanging the duvet to dry, prepping two bags of red bell peppers and roasting them (for black beans), making fried rice and bok choy for a very late lunch, I am pooped. My energy has waned. Maybe later? Who knows? I still have dishes to wash, roasted red bells to peel and store, the duvet to take down, Lucy to walk. I just want to sit here and read, do research for the shrine I’ve been commissioned to make.
But I am determined not to kick myself for leaving the floors undone for another day. At least I brought the vacuum cleaner upstairs. That’s a huge step all by itself.
I feel like Neil Armstrong.