The Sticking Point

May 11, 2020 | 0 comments

We’ve just about reached the sticking point in this house.  Literally.  After leading the life of shut-ins for two months, it might be time for me to do a deep cleaning.  Or at least tackle the kitchen floor.

My neighbor Carol spent last week cleaning her place from top to bottom.  Marta mentioned last weekend that she finally “couldn’t stand it anymore” and swept and scrubbed and vacuumed her place.  In our weekly conversation last night, Charlie said he’d finally succumbed and had faced down his kitchen floor.  I’m thinking I’m about the last in line.  My tolerance level must be too high.

I wonder what it is about this “sheltering” business that makes one day morph into another and causes the routines of normal life to seem so easy to postpone.  Is it that there is no longer urgency?  Is it that no one else will be dropping in to notice?  Or is it just the ailment our friend Dick describes as “ennui”? When I asked him his symptoms, he said, “Everywhere I look — in my office, in the garage, in the living room — are unfinished project.  I begin them and then my interest or energy just fizzles out.”

Yes, something like that.  Plus, we didn’t really have time to get into the Spring Fever cleaning mode.  Spring has gone by in a flurry of masks and wipes and worry and then, suddenly it seemed, it was summer.  The last few glorious days brought their own brand of lethargy — the sit-in-the-sun (or shade) and-bask kind.

We even jumped ahead to summer menus — spare ribs and coleslaw, pasta salad and ice tea!  I really could have cared less about my sticky kitchen floor.  But… this morning we are back to cool, moist marine air.  More like “Junuary”  weather than May.  Perhaps today (whatever day this is) will be the one that I’ll spend scrubbing something… something besides my hands,

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