Adventures with Hestia

This morning I planned to do some housework that I thought would take about an hour. Instead, it turned into a marathon cleaning session lasting about three hours. Even though it threw a wrench into other plans I had for the day, it was great to get so much done. It didn't sound like a lot -- dusting, mopping the floors, cleaning the bathroom -- but it somehow turned into a cleaning odyssey.

It started yesterday when I threw away the carpet in my hallway that I've had since moving in here. It was hard to keep clean and had gotten a lot of wear and tear, and I finally decided to let it go. It was so nice to see the hardwood floor afterwards, and the hall seemed so much more spacious, that it encouraged me to start cleaning and clearing on a wider scale. This morning, I decided to dust the furniture before breakfast, and I ended up clearing away some long-term clutter from my bookshelves right off the bat.

I was moving things out of the way before mopping the kitchen and decided to tackle the accordion file containing some of my mother's papers. This was kind of a big deal because I've had it since before she died, and it's been in the kitchen for several years. I felt much the same way about it that I did about the papers, clippings, photos, and memorabilia my father gave me before he died. It was a long time before I had the stamina to go through any of it. Today, once I started going through the file, I saw that it was going to be much easier than I thought. It contained mostly monthly statements for utilities, credit cards, and insurance payments and was pretty dry as far as contents go. An object that had assumed a heaviness out of all proportion to its size was dispatched in under 20 minutes.

When I was dust-mopping my room, I encountered a flat box that's been under the chest of drawers for years. Now I was really in the mood to jettison things, so I hauled it out and looked inside: it was mostly paperwork and manuals for a computer I don't even own anymore. I also found a dream journal I was keeping a few years ago and a couple of other items worth saving, so I took those out and made another trip to the dumpster. It felt so good to be getting rid of things that I was tempted to start going through my closet. But since it was getting on toward mid-afternoon by then, I decided that could wait for another day.

After finishing the floors, I scrubbed the bathtub and the sink. Then I jumped in the shower to wash all the dust off and was surprised how much lighter and more relaxed I felt when I got out. Instead of feeling annoyed that the housework had taken so long and prevented me from getting into the shower until after 2 o'clock, I felt like I had just had a spa treatment.

I had planned to do some writing, but by the time I got dressed and ate lunch, it seemed better to go out. It was beautiful outside; rain earlier in the day had washed the air clean, and there was a pleasant breeze. I don't know if it was feeling virtuous from all the housework, the fact that I was wearing my denim shorts, the brilliant green of the summer lawns in the light, or just what it was, but I felt unencumbered, the way I remember feeling when I was about nine. It seemed impossible that I could actually be an adult with responsibilities; it felt like school had just let out.

The cleaning and clearing ritual must have jarred something loose and created more space; I seem to have swept something else out the door besides dust and cobwebs. Hestia is an unassuming goddess, but a goddess is still a goddess. It's never wise to underestimate even a modest goddess.