It's Time to Make the Rooms Shine

I spent hours sitting by the window this morning. My only student sat nearby. We had blankets and pillows and piles of books.  It was a studious time of enjoying literature.  After awhile, we had beverages and toast. Then it was time to get to work.

I put on my apron and assessed the condition of the kitchen.  I piled dishes in the sink to soak in hot, sudsy water. Then I decided to clean the parlour instead.  (gentle smiles)

I lit a mint-chocolate-chip scented candle. It sat next to my forlorn, wilting flower plant. (A gardener, sadly, I am not.)   Then I got the pledge and a dust rag. I polished the end-table. . the lamp. . the large table, the hutch and the wood pellet stove. Then I dusted the window sills.

I dragged in the large vacuum cleaner. It is a charming pastel green. I vacuumed the carpet and then started on the kitchen floor.  It reminded me of the old days. In my childhood home, we had a large, round throw rug that needed to be brought outside to be cleaned. This covered most of our living room floor. It went over the linoleum. Most of the house was plain linoleum. We had to sweep all the rooms. I don't even remember using a vacuum cleaner.

In my mid-teenage years, when I worked as a maid, I was intrigued by vacuum cleaners which had a "floor" setting, along with a "carpet" setting. We used to vacuum all the wood floors and all the linoleum. It made things very quick and easy.

Today, as I worked and remembered, I started to vacuum the baseboards. This too was quick and easy.  Smaller boards, and those in corners, were done by hand, with the use of a rag.

I then swept the hearth, washed my dustpan, and tucked in all the chairs. The room looked lovely. I went to the back door to get a better look. All was charming and shining and pleasant.

Then I remembered something. . . my kitchen was still a mess.  I had plenty more work to do.

Blessings
Mrs. White

For Those Difficult Times - Despairing over the Household Allowance.

Stand Brave Mother! - The Kitchen Martyr.

Sad Comfort For Mothers of Older Children -  Childhood Home as the Nursery.



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