Cleaning Therapy

Sometimes Always, living life is messy. When you live your life in a renovation, this is especially true. ESPECIALLY when you have two cats two dogs. And when you live in  a community that calls its Spring, Mud Season... well, you catch my drift.

Husband and I finished our concrete floors and after, I'll admit, we were naive to believe that we would be ready to move back into our living room. Then slowly, between furniture shopping and spatial planning, we came to realize that we are far from ready to bring upholstery and pets back into this space. We have this open loft that needs hardwood flooring and fascia trim-- bring on the sawdust! We busted out 18 windows in the living room to upgrade them to double-pane, low-E, insulated glass units... which quite literally brought the outdoors, in. Dirt and bugs and all.

All this is to say that, one, we are not ready for any big reveal photo shoots. And two, that our house has become quite messy, to say the least. This is what has become of our upgraded new living room these past couple weeks:

Okay, so this happens. We've all been there. So I am going to tell you the best thing I know to say.

It's time to clean. 

Even though we are not finished and so this space will definitely get at least this dirty again, THE MADNESS MUST STOP.

If you have ever worked in food service then you know what I am talking about. You have all these huge, stainless steel tables that get covered in all kinds of vegetables, sour cream and raw meat and you are constantly cleaning them. They will get covered again, within hours, but you must not be tempted to think, "what's the point?" You must clean again because it's the right thing to do for your health, safety and sanity.

Cleaning a work space is kind of like pressing the reset button. It keeps you from becoming overwhelmed. It brings the finish line out from hiding. It whispers, you can do this.

 
All our tools and paint cans are put away, so when we need them tomorrow we'll know where to find them. The vacuum has done its job. All the trash is, appropriately, in the trash.

So, what's the point? Like I said, we're not ready for any photo shoots but at least we feel like we can breathe again. Tomorrow is another day and we are ready for it.

The Art of Letting Go

You may or may not know this about me but I don't own a set of dishes. Not a matching set, anyway. It's not that I'm perpetually living like a college student, twelve years post-college. It's a choice I've made, if not partly because I couldn't possibly choose just one pattern or style.

I love things that are different. I love most colors and patterns. I love constantly rummaging through thrift stores, antique malls and the clearance section at Anthropologie for a new plate, bowl or mug to add to my collection. I love that this snapshot of my cupboard will be ever-changing.

People ask me if I have my favorites and, of course, I do. And what happens when one breaks and it's the only one? That is actually one of the most beautiful things about my collection. Because that is when I practice letting go.

One of my favorite mugs fell from the top shelf the other day and, let me tell you, it was sad. My bestie gave it to me and it was an excellent mug for sipping hot chocolate. My sweet husband offered to collect the pieces and fix it but I knew it wouldn't be right. Some of my dishes do have cracks or super-glued handles and I keep them in rotation because they still hold liquid and they are still essentially themselves. Then sometimes one really breaks and you know it's time to say goodbye. It's a practice in sadness, mourning, letting go and moving on. It's good for my soul.

Maybe it's simple or silly but these dishes, each as unique as a person, help me to practice being a better me. So much of what home is, to me, is helping me to just deal with life and the world. Home is refuge, yes.  It is sanctuary, yes. And sometimes it is character CrossFit. Home sends us forth equipped with whatever we've gleaned from the place and the people within. So, what if my dishes make me cry sometimes?

People ask me if I do anything special with these broken favorites and, yes, I do. I put them in the trash. Like I said, it's a practice in letting go. Moving on.