I evaluated my house cleaning the other day. I was sitting in the bedroom and I thought I detected a little dust under the tall dresser. “I wonder when I last cleaned under there,” I thought. I dragged out the under-stuff vacuum cleaner and made a pass through uncharted or, obviously unclean, territory. The brush on the end of the wand (a weird name for a cleaning tool) brought out clumps of dust that were more like “dust jack rabbits,” rather than just dust bunnies. This gave me the incentive to keep going, ending with mopping the hardwood parts of the floor with my new Swiffer mop.
I threatened to clean the house, starting with the front entry and working my way back, last fall. Now, it’s Meteorological Spring (ignore that foot of snow), and I’m still threatening. I guess you could call those empty threats, eh? After seeing the creatures under that dresser, I’m a little more motivated. Where does dust come from anyway? The house is all closed up in the winter. I haven’t opened any of my new super-efficient windows; who let it in?
I’m still learning in the kitchen. When my daughters began actually helping in the kitchen, I suppose they were seven or eight years old. Yes, we were a sexist family; although a couple of the boys turned out to be pretty handy in the kitchen, they did it later on their own. So I figure I’m at about the level of one of my daughters when she was 10 or 12. When you look at it that way, I’m not doing too poorly. Talking like that, maybe I should run for Congress.
My latest lesson was: don’t leave something on the burner and go to the basement to do laundry. Nine times out of nine the phone will ring and you will temporarily forget about what is boiling, now burning, on the stove. Fortunately, the air currents from my new furnace bring kitchen smells back to the basement. After hanging up quickly and hurrying up the steps, I was able to salvage my lunch entrée. It was close, however.
I was discussing kitchen work with another male, and he and I agreed that actually the preparation wasn’t so bad; it was the cleanup that was the villain. He added that if he were in my position, he’d eat out three times a day. Ha! “No guts, no glory!” (Maybe that isn’t the best adage to use in the kitchen.) “No pain, no gain!” I’ll keep trying, but I do find myself eating more prepared food and blessing the person who invented the microwave.
I don’t know what to think about urging spring to come. Maybe I’ll have to get out the magic candles and sit cross-legged on the floor. “Help! I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, and I can’t get up!”
Have you seen the news stories about a trend of seventyish women dying before their normal time? Scientists who keep track of such things can’t detect any reason for this trend. If this keeps happening, there will be a bunch of “Young” Al Ownes out there bumbling around in kitchens throughout the world. Good luck guys.
Spring ahead Sunday! Alnada2704@gmail.com, or care of Winona Post, P.O. Box 27, Winona, MN, 55987