I had Tuesday off…not because I wanted it, but because I’m in between a few teaching schedules. Over Thanksgiving our oven lost it’s turkey virginity, and well, the poor gal has been through the ringer. I mentioned scrubbing out the oven to my mom with brilo pads and she said, “No! No! You must use lye…here, I’m going to give you this book….it has all the basics.” So for Christmas, Mom gave me “Home Comforts: The Art & Science of Keeping House.” Inside this big book is everything from how to properly hang t-shirts on a clothes line to the details of every fork and spoon you might find on a table. It explores care labels, proper dusting techniques, and yes, how to clean a stove. There is also a big chapter on how to wrap your mind around housework–it’s not unfeminist to want a clean home after all. 100 years ago women took great pride in keeping up a nice home…now we have careers, kids, pets, etc. to contend with as well. Many of us also had working mothers who maybe couldn’t devote tons of time breaking it down to their kids, (although most of my housekeeping knowledge comes from Mom…like how to fold socks and stuff). I love this book, because it’s the art AND science of doing something that, well, I have to do in some capacity every day.

So, it’s my day off and what do I do? I THROW myself into housework with wild enthusiasm–inspired largely by the book. I wash the floor, I finish the odds and ends of laundry (I can never seem to follow through with a load, leaving the last batch of whites dry in the dryer to languish), I do dishes, I vacuum and wipe down the couch, I open windows to let natural air in, I change the sheets on the bed (but only after leaving the bed naked for an hour in order to properly vent the mattress), I bake a raspberry roll-up cake and then finish off with a baked chicken.

Oh, and this doesn’t count outdoors: slowly over the weeks I’ve been dismantling the uprooted bushes that lay waste after our sewer pipe was installed. This involves straddling the bush with a pair of dull clippers and pulling and wrenching until the branches snap into small, manageable, yard-waste bin pieces. Over and over I stuff branches into the bin, mashing them down with muddy boots and dusty gloves hands. Then I rake leaves–the grass underneath has been struggling to breath all winter. I pull out the extension cord and pretty soon I’m vigorously vacuuming my car out. (I spend a lot of time in my car and it sure feels better when it’s clean).

Then I balanced the checkbook, paid our mortgage over the phone…and watched a little Oprah (just like a real house wife!) Today, I have a wicked sore throat and it’s back to work. What happened? Did I get too much smog-filled air? Did the triple show duty over the weekend catch up with me? Did I unhinge too much dust with my new techniques? At any rate, it’s back to the grindstone.