Spring cleaning, part I, is done; so much more left to do!
Monthly Archives: April 2011
It’s that time again! I’m making lists and have stopped making excuses; the Great Chili Household Reset of 2011 has begun!
This afternoon, I did a quick grocery shopping (as we were pretty bare from being on vacation last week) and, in the process, cleaned out both my freezer AND my refrigerator. Of course, I SHOULD have done this YESTERDAY because this morning was trash day, but don’t bother me with fussy details. I’m working my way through the rooms, making note of what needs to be repaired or replaced (when the addition was built, for example, nearly all the molding where the walls meet the floors was removed; I want it back). I already tackled the downstairs bedroom and bath in anticipation of Eddie’s visit (they chose not to stay, which disappointed me, but I was still left with sparkly-clean rooms!) and am chipping away at the kitchen. My fridge and freezer are neat and organized, I know what’s in them now, and I feel like I really accomplished something today.
Tomorrow, it’s clean sheet day, vacuuming, and laundry. I need to unpack my Florida suitcase and am considering doing the Great Clothes Switch, too. I haven’t quite worked up the nerve to venture into closets, but that’s coming, too; I am feeling the need to clean out and trim down.
Here’s the thing; I’m not at all swept up in the hoopla surrounding the upcoming wedding of William and Catherine. In fact, I’ve been out of the news loop for a while now, having given myself permission to disengage from the media in general just prior to my vacation and not having had the guts to look too closely since I’ve been back, so I’ve missed what I’m sure has been a non-stop soaking of the airwaves with brainless prattle about dresses and invitations and what it all “means.”
I do have to admit, though, to setting my TiVo to record the proceedings. I can’t help it; I’m a sucker for a wedding.
I’m not exactly sure what it is about weddings that delight me so. Maybe it’s the ceremony – the ritual that gets repeated in varying incarnations over and over again as we seek to declare something intensely private in a blatantly public way. Maybe it’s the hopefulness of weddings that I love; that, despite nearly overwhelming evidence to the contrary, we continue to believe in the idea that two people can make promises to each other that they will honor and nurture for the rest of their lives; I want to believe that others can have what Mr. Chili and I share. I know a lot of what I love about weddings is the community of the event; people coming together to honor and celebrate and support each other in what I think are real and meaningful ways. I’m sure that a lot of what I love about weddings is the finery of them, too; the beautiful dresses, the flowers, the shiny new rings.
So, even though I’m not an Anglophile and even though I don’t have any kind of personal investment in this wedding, I’m going to make arrangements to be able to watch at least some of it (I’ll record all of it and fast forward over the boring bits). I’m planning a viewing date with O’Mama; I’ll make tea and cookies and invite her to bring her wedding album so we can remember and share our own happiest days while we wish this new couple every happiness.
Well, I’m back home and back at work. I still feel like I’m moving; not literally, of course – that sensation has passed – but I do feel as though I’ve not quite reestablished my stride.
Luckily, I’ve had a pretty easy re-introduction into my real life. My students were all in good spirits today, and I don’t have too much catching up to do in terms of correcting. I’m going to yoga class this afternoon while Mr. Chili does some grocery shopping, and we will likely all make a very early night of it; even though we didn’t shift time zones, all of us feels a little jet-lagged.
Going away always makes me think about the idea of “home” and what it means to me to feel as though I belong somewhere. I am warmly and openly welcomed in a lot of places, and I recognize the blessing that people offer me by accepting me so freely into their homes. For all that I am deeply, profoundly, almost ineffably grateful to the people who love me and take me in, there is that indescribable feeling that goes along with having a “room of one’s own.” I don’t know whether it’s the familiarity of place, or the way the light moves through the rooms, or the smell of the air, but the feeling of “rightness” that comes from walking into one’s own front door is, well, right.
The Chili family are safely back in our own beds after a (very) long drive back from the train station in Virginia.
I did the math and figured out that, not counting refueling and rest stops (and a too-long wait in a traffic jam in New Jersey), we’ve been moving for about 30 hours. As I computed that, I asked Mr. Chili if he, too, had the sensation of still moving. He does. It’s weird.
I’m so glad to be home, but I miss my chosen family already. I am so lucky. I am also very tired. More tomorow.