Pink enough to tickle
Pink enough to tickle
Another greeting from last Autumn
I am not a messy, really not. I could have become one I suppose as you get influenced by your surroundings. Mum was not a messy, she just never cleaned anything. To her dust bunnies under the bed belonged to daily life. I grew up with them. They did not really bother me too much, I just learned to ignore them. I did not grow up in luxury and a daily clean up of the home did not seem to be necessasry according to the mum philosophy, it only gets dirty gain.
I do not think mum ever possessed a duster and I remember our first vacuum cleaner. It was a special cheap offer. A salesman came past, there was a short demonstration and we had a vacuum cleaner. Of course it was cheap, everything we had was cheap and quality did not exist. When did mum use this new toy? Not very often I am sure. Mum’s cleaning day, the real spring cleaning, was on good Friday once a year. For some strange reason this was the day when floors were scrubbed. It was the day when dad had to take me for a walk to get out of the way. I think it was his escape route, as mum began the cleaning session with noise and complaints and so we disappeared. It was also the day when it was a real public religious holiday and everything was closed: even the museums and dad and I loved to visit the museums. And so we disapeared until we judge it safe enough to return home after she had finished her cleaning session.
I remember that mum cleaned windows regularly, although she seldom washed the curtains, but we always had clean windows. We had to have a window cleaner for the outside windows, it was the custom in the East End of London. He would appear once a week with his ladder and when he left we had clean windows.
Today I hate mess and do my best to avoid it, but there are circumstances where it happens. I have my little routines of cleaning which are really no big deal. Mum would let it pile up until Good Friday, I have my once a week routine and so everything stays organised.
I have now realised that if your daily routine changes due to an accident, for example, then mess can happen. The physical disability does not help. Of course we do our best, but there are some things that just have to be left on one side. It is then you realise that life is more than just being tidy, life is when you feel comfortable. My bedside table is now an arrangement of various ointments, with a walking stick wedged in between and a box of tissues. Who cares? It will soon be Easter and perhaps I feel like a cleaning session on Good Friday.
At least it is not snowing – yet. We had enough to last yesterday. My rosemary bush is weighed down with snow. It look like I am only taking black and white photos, but the snow has removed all colour. I will be glad to get out and about again to take a few photos. At the moment only the most necessary excursions are being made. Mr. Swiss managed to get the provisions yesterday and now we are settling in until Monday, hoping that the snow days are now gone.
Yesterday the therapy lady paid another visit. I have an annoying pain around my left knee, but it seems I will have to put up with it for a while. Her massaging helped, but healing a broken leg takes time. I get so frustrated not being able to do stuff I usually do, but gradually we are getting a new routine. Walking around with a mop and a walker is not such an easy task, but it is possible. They should really design walkers with more attachments and perhaps a motor. I discovered a patch of hard skin on my hand yesterday, but the therapy lady said that comes from pushing the walker.
Two ladies phoned yesterday about the cleaning job at our place and will be calling in. I hope this time we manage to find someone suitable,
At the moment I have no interest in doing things. I usually read in the evening, but have lost interest and am now watching the TV. I do not like TV, so thing are really getting bad. Yesterday it was all about the elections in Italy which are also not so interesting for my taste. I am not a TV person, the only programme I really bother to watch is East Enders. That is a soap based on the area where I grew up, so I can identify myself with some of the scenes, although everyone in the series seems to have criminal intentions which was not the case when I lived there.
And now to move on, hoping that something exciting might happen today like walking without my walker or a big snow melt. Have fun, enjoy the week-end
It will all be the same in a hundred years.
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