I'm giving up on spring cleaning. The more I clean, the messier the house gets. I am just about ready to set fire to the whole thing and start my life over. I hate cleaning. It's doing no good. So I'm quitting. I realized a few minutes ago that I would rather walk in front of a speeding bus and die a painful death than scrub any more grit or arrange any more books.
I'm giving up my Southern Living subscription. I haven't the time for cooking, flower arranging, or gardening. I haven't the money for travel, much less for putting a new addition onto the house. What a depressing magazine, Southern Living. And not a single picture of my southern house and my overgrown southern yard, or the southern dust gracing my southern furniture, or the southern heat-and-humidity-fed mold growing on my well-worn copies of Percy, Faulkner, and Welty. It also depresses me that I have a stack of two years' worth of subscriptions cluttering up my southern living room. Lately I don't have time to read it at all, so it never gets read. But I hate to throw away a magazine I haven't read, particularly since the subscription was a gift. Maybe I'll store them with the yarn thing.
I'm giving up my scrapbooking habit. OK, so it's never been a habit. I tried. I organized all of my hundreds of photos from the last 25 years, spent gobs of money on clever little scrapbooking tools like cutters and corner-curvers and borders. Oh, I was going to be such a good scrapbooker! And I was good--I was creative! I was clever! I had so many ideas for themes and borders and everything! Yes, I had a plethora of ideas ... for about ten minutes, two years ago. Ahhh ... since then, all of that stuff has sat in a box under my bed, collecting some good southern dust. The few times I did scrapbook, I felt like I was on a slow road to boredom hell. In the end, sadly, the themes and borders failed to inspire.
Oh. I was cleaning off the shelf with all of the organized hundreds of pictures, and the box fell. Pictures went everywhere. I have half a mind to shred them and be done with them.
Yes, spring cleaning brings out the ugliest part of me. I hate it so much, and I hate that I've spent two days of my much-awaited spring break doing something I hate. I'd rather walk in front of ... oh, I already wrote that, didn't I. And I just realized that I used the word "hate" three times in this paragraph. Whew. So you see how I feel about cleaning house!
So I'm giving up. I'd much rather work on my much-neglected piano music. So good-bye, mop and broom! Farewell, endless supply of Southern Living! Ta-ta, hundreds of disorganized pictures and discarded theme ideas! So long, you horrid housework!
Hel-lo, George and Johann Sebastian! It's been much too long!