A Place for Everything - July 21 2022

 

A Place for Everything

July 21 2022

I am not indifferent

to cleaning.

Which means neither obsessive

nor oblivious;

I do notice the socks

left where they were dropped

dust bunnies under the bed,

am reassured

by everything in its place.

But with the lights low

and glasses off

messiness

is easy to ignore.

Under stress, though, I'm a demon,

calming myself

by cleaning.

It's about getting in motion,

the virtue

of keeping house,

the restoration of order

when life is not.

But mostly

a result I can see,

that has a beginning and an end

and can be clearly measured.

How nicely it quells

my discomfort with uncertainty.

      . . .  For now, at least.

Needless to say, my house is presentable.

Life

may be spinning of control,

but enclosed

in my own domestic space

all is well.

So I tend to wonder

about an immaculate house.

What hell

has been visited upon its inhabitants,

what suffering concealed

behind their easy-going welcome

obsessively vacuumed rugs?

What tell-tale heart

beats beneath

those polished hardwood floors?

Lightning struck the other day. Literally. The result: electrical mayhem. And today, after a succession of contractors and insurance men, what else, but to find myself exhausted, but cleaning. And it does feel better. A locus of control in uncontrollable life.

The ending will make more sense if you're familiar with Edgar Allen Poe's short story The Tell-Tale Heart.