Cleaning time for the soul
I get a bit obsessive about cleaning.
This is not to say that the house is a tidy place. Some of you have even seen the pictures. In many ways I live like a sloven, mainly because I get a bit obsessive about cleaning.
Take this afternoon, for example. After a fortnight of never quite getting around to it, I finally hoovered* and washed the kitchen floor. Then I hoovered the living room, and all the rooms upstairs. Then I went at the cobwebs with the crevice tool attachment (don't snigger, that's what it's called). I hoovered the curtains (drapes) and under ours and the spare bed. I even hoovered in the walk-in closet and behind the toilet. And finally, I hauled the hoover up into the loft and hoovered up all the dangly, fly-filled cobwebs in the rafters.
Why did I do this? I don't know. Sure, they've annoyed me every time I've been up there. It's something I've been meaning to do for about six years now. But this time I actually did it.
It's something to do with the old saying: 'if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well.' I don't live my life by this adage; I prefer its corollary: 'If a job's not worth doing well, it's not worth doing at all.' (also: 'Why put off until tomorrow what you can avoid doing altogether?'). I know that once I start doing something, I'm going to get all obsessive about it. I know that the sink has to be cleaned down after the dishes have been washed. I know that every last grain of rice has to be scraped from the pan into the sieve, and from the sieve onto the plate. I know that as soon as I get the hoover out, the whole house is going to have to be cleaned, from top to bottom, with a manic eye for detail. And I know that as soon as I start out on writing the next Benfro novel it's going to be the centre of my attention, to the detriment of almost everything else, until the final sentence has been typed.
And so I bought a dishwasher; I don't eat rice nearly as much as I used to; the house is generally waist deep in dog and cat hair; and I still haven't summoned up the courage to dive into the next book.
Tomorrow's Christmas. Maybe I'll start on Monday.
*It's an odd thing that we brits call it 'hoovering' after the original 'hoover' brand vacuum cleaner. I've actually got a vax, but somehow 'vaxing the living room' sound slightly dubious; the sort of thing those crazy Canadians might get up to.
This is not to say that the house is a tidy place. Some of you have even seen the pictures. In many ways I live like a sloven, mainly because I get a bit obsessive about cleaning.
Take this afternoon, for example. After a fortnight of never quite getting around to it, I finally hoovered* and washed the kitchen floor. Then I hoovered the living room, and all the rooms upstairs. Then I went at the cobwebs with the crevice tool attachment (don't snigger, that's what it's called). I hoovered the curtains (drapes) and under ours and the spare bed. I even hoovered in the walk-in closet and behind the toilet. And finally, I hauled the hoover up into the loft and hoovered up all the dangly, fly-filled cobwebs in the rafters.
Why did I do this? I don't know. Sure, they've annoyed me every time I've been up there. It's something I've been meaning to do for about six years now. But this time I actually did it.
It's something to do with the old saying: 'if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well.' I don't live my life by this adage; I prefer its corollary: 'If a job's not worth doing well, it's not worth doing at all.' (also: 'Why put off until tomorrow what you can avoid doing altogether?'). I know that once I start doing something, I'm going to get all obsessive about it. I know that the sink has to be cleaned down after the dishes have been washed. I know that every last grain of rice has to be scraped from the pan into the sieve, and from the sieve onto the plate. I know that as soon as I get the hoover out, the whole house is going to have to be cleaned, from top to bottom, with a manic eye for detail. And I know that as soon as I start out on writing the next Benfro novel it's going to be the centre of my attention, to the detriment of almost everything else, until the final sentence has been typed.
And so I bought a dishwasher; I don't eat rice nearly as much as I used to; the house is generally waist deep in dog and cat hair; and I still haven't summoned up the courage to dive into the next book.
Tomorrow's Christmas. Maybe I'll start on Monday.
*It's an odd thing that we brits call it 'hoovering' after the original 'hoover' brand vacuum cleaner. I've actually got a vax, but somehow 'vaxing the living room' sound slightly dubious; the sort of thing those crazy Canadians might get up to.
Comments
Nah James, we're too busy at the sex clubs. And a Scot told me that if you're using the French Maid's outfit "hoovering" means something else too.
My advice on house cleaning - use dry erase boards in your office and move into a wind tunnel. Then the dust can't settle.
And then I saw John's comment, which made me go sneak a peak in my Christmas stocking and - gasp, shock - they are selling the US versions of his books in Canada. WTF? 95% of the time we're blessed with the UK versions of British writers, and of course we get the American versions of the American writers. Which is why I forget that while "till we meet again" is perfectly acceptable with the Yanks, when you use it with a Brit they think you're talking about a cash register.
And, of course, for some reason they had John's books stacked in the literary fiction section, dwarfed by Mordecai Richler books. Maybe I should take the camera in and get a picture of that. Add it to the mounting collection I'm working on for a "Stupid Canadians" post. Right up there with the ditsy bookseller who thought Fleshmarket Close was a book on fashion. But a picture doesn't accurately reflect her stupidity.
As for John's books - I couldn't find them for sale in the UK except on Amazon, so I picked up that copy in Lethbridge, Alberta the last time I was over. I don't know why it was the American version rather than the UK one, but I was very confused to find a Brighton based writer doing US detective fiction, so maybe the bookshops can be excused this time.
Like finding The Naked Lunch in the cookery section.
Upon further scrutiny, I discovered it's a different publisher for book 2, so perhaps John got a US publisher first and then signed with Penguin? Perhaps I should go to his blog and ask? Or just continue speculating and avoiding the Christmas merriment upstairs. You know you're in hell when your six-year-old nephew has discovered monopoly and can kick your arse at it. Thank god we stopped using real money after the second game.
I hope you all have a lovely holiday in your nice clean house.
Is Monday a working day in the UK? Here it's a holiday - we have Christmas day 24th (working day until lunchtime) and then two holi-days.
Merry Christmas
And I can advise waiting until the first of January to start the new book (that’s what I’m going to do) that way you don’t get your stride broken by all that whisky and black bun, just as you’re getting up a good head of steam. Plus I’ve still got one shorty to write, another to edit and a mammoth illustrating job to do before now and the end of the year.
Holidays my arse.
;}#
And a six year old who likes bored games - now that is odd.
Lisa - hope you have a great Christmas too.
Gabriele - Monday and Tuesday are both bank holidays here. But since I don't work office hours, I can ignore them if I choose;}#
Mr Stuart - the words rod, own and back spring to mind.
He was supposed to start kindergarten Sept. 04. Inside of two weeks he was tested, scored at the grade 3 level for reading and math and all the other good stuff, and they skipped him up to grade 1 automatically.
He is now kicking his sister's (age 11) ass at multiplication (and she's no dummy either) and he can do subtraction and addition and multiplicaton in his head. I kid you not - I was buying a property for $320 and gave him (the banker) a $500 and said, "So I should get..." He cut me off and said $180 change.
He's a frickin' little nightmare! And the only thing he loves more than board games and x box is money.
What James? You were down in Deathbridge and didn't visit Vulcan or Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump? You were deprived.
My family used to own a big chunk of land around Medicine Hat. Sadly whichever ancestor it was forfeited the land when he went back to the UK to fight in the first world war, which is a shame as it has a lot of oil and gas underneath it.
Mind you, my family's quite careless that way - they managed to lose a large chunk of Florida too.
Ach, there's oil everywhere here. We're the "Texax" of Canada. Most liberal with our gun views too. The classic Alberta bumpersticker has a pick NO on the left side with three things beside it: Kyoto, Gun Registry, Wheat Board. Says a lot about Alberta.
We're actually an anomoly. We own the mineral rights for the 4 lots we have. So a year ago an energy company came out here, did directional drilling and started pulling out the natural gas reserves from under the town properties. Then, of course, we found out and all hell broke loose. I barely stopped short of telling the woman from the energy company she was a fcukin' bitch in front of the town council (because she threatened to take us to court if we refused to sell to try to expropriate the mineral rights) and within days I had to tell her to get off my property or get to know my bigger dog up close and personal and don't ever call our house again.
There's a story in there somewhere about a long-standing feud between an energy company and town residents that ends in murder, but I was too distracted by the fact that our neighbors stole our coffee table. I only put it outside because our then-puppy had spray diarrhea all over it. And they just waltzed on over and took it.
And I can look out my window and see them barbecuing and putting food on our coffee table. Only it was the really cheap, old one and it stank like...well, you know... so it wasn't like I wanted it back.
It's just the principal of the thing. I'm thinking in the spring we'll put up an electric fence. That outta keep them in their own yard!
But then I select post a comment and there's my post, in place. Just not visible anywhere else. Bizarre!
So here it is again, just in case it works this time. It'll likely be posted twice now, but just think of how popular you'll feel when this says 12 comments!
Yes, well, if it's swampland, it's no great loss. Unless you wanted to sell gator-skin boots and belts.
Ach, there's oil everywhere here. We're the "Texax" of Canada. Most liberal with our gun views too. The classic Alberta bumpersticker has a pick NO on the left side with three things beside it: Kyoto, Gun Registry, Wheat Board. Says a lot about Alberta.
We're actually an anomoly. We own the mineral rights for the 4 lots we have. So a year ago an energy company came out here, did directional drilling and started pulling out the natural gas reserves from under the town properties. Then, of course, we found out and all hell broke loose. I barely stopped short of telling the woman from the energy company she was a fcukin' bitch in front of the town council (because she threatened to take us to court if we refused to sell to try to expropriate the mineral rights) and within days I had to tell her to get off my property or get to know my bigger dog up close and personal and don't ever call our house again.
There's a story in there somewhere about a long-standing feud between an energy company and town residents that ends in murder, but I was too distracted by the fact that our neighbors stole our coffee table. I only put it outside because our then-puppy had spray diarrhea all over it. And they just waltzed on over and took it.
And I can look out my window and see them barbecuing and putting food on our coffee table. Only it was the really cheap, old one and it stank like...well, you know... so it wasn't like I wanted it back.
It's just the principal of the thing. I'm thinking in the spring we'll put up an electric fence. That outta keep them in their own yard!