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| Company's coming? Crap, I've got to clean this joint! (Obviously this isn't me; he's wearing a tie.) |
I'm not the kind of guy who can gin up
enough enthusiasm about nothing to sit down and blog about it. And
although I enjoy waking up to myself each and every morning, I'm not
such a narcissist that I think anyone gives a rat's ass about my
every-day life. Do you really want to hear about my day going to the
gym, writing an AutoTrader piece, fixing lunch or dozing in my
recliner? No, I didn't think so.
I have been anchored to Greenville the
past several weeks. I haven't been anywhere in a month. My day-to-day
activities the last 30 days have been restricted mostly to writing
things for money or adding content to my GreenvilleInsider.com Web
site. Just because I make money – calling my writing “earning a
living” wouldn't be even remotely accurate – writing, doesn't
mean I want to do it 24/7. Consequently Clanging Bell has suffered.
While on my little sabbatical from
traveling, I have built, installed and painted a new ramp for the
shed. The original simply wasn't sturdy enough to withstand the
elements and my sporadic walking on it. I also leveled the ground on
which the ramp rests when deployed, installed a border around it and
added some river rock. In the meantime, I haven't put a minute into
the spare bedroom project in more than six weeks. I did order the
small hand-held circular saw needed to proceed; so, I anticipate
moving forward with that project beginning in July.
I did enjoy some overnight out-of-town
company a week or so ago. Friends for more than 35 years, they are
the folks who harbor me on my annual Louisville excursions. On their
way to Florida for a business-related retreat, they broke up their
trip with a brief stopover in Greenville. That's been the sum total
of my excitement for the past month. I basically live the life of a
shut-in.
My friends' visit did prompt me to
spring into action for a 36-hour house-cleaning frenzy. My house
isn't designed for entertaining. It's small. And, although the main
floor is one large – well, smallish, actually, – space, there is
a fireplace and chimney in its middle, breaking up traffic flow.
People who knew me in Kentucky or Florida know I enjoy throwing a
party for no particular reason. Can't do that in Greenville; I simply
don't have the space for it. I tell you all of this as prologue to
admitting, my house isn't always visitor ready.
For 355 to 360 days a year, it's just
me and my damn cat rattling around in my 1,000 square feet. Although
I'm a-place-for-everything-and-everything-in-its-place sort of guy,
keeping the joint basically clutter free, dusting, vacuuming,
cleaning toilets and the confluence of all the other little chores
that equal a “clean” house aren't a weekly or even a monthly
occurrence. Every once in a while I will notice the dust buildup on
the top of the unit holding my flatscreen. That will usually motivate
me to do a little dusting, which leads to running the electric broom
over the floor. Otherwise, cleaning the kitchen counter once a day or
so is about as active as I get in the cleaning department.
Two or three times a year someone does
actually visit. These aren't drop-ins, but out-of-towners like my
Louisville friends who announced their arrival somewhat in advance.
Whether they stay for a night, a weekend or a week, I have to engage
in the same amount of preparation. Because I clean so infrequently, I
am really an amateur at it. There's no mental checklist. I don't have
a “cleaning routine.” I simply glance around and think to myself,
if I was a female-type person, what would gross me out? I then
prioritize my targets by gross-out degree and get busy. Clean sheets
on the guest bed: check. Clean sink and toilets in the bathrooms:
check. Feet don't stick to the kitchen floor: check.
I spent more time cleaning my abode
than my friends stayed in it. The good news, though, my house is good
and clean for another four months or my next overnight guests,
whichever comes first.
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