The Daffodils Made Me Do It

I don’t think it’s actually spring, so much, that makes me want to break out all of the attachments on the vacuum or gives me the desire to take every screen off the window and wash them thoroughly so much as it is the advertisement of everyone else who is organizing, labeling, cleaning and picking berries to make home-made pies. I’m an organizing freak. I hate to clean. I’ll let my cleaning go until I gather the urge to just bust out the soap and the sponge but show me a closet or drawer in disarray and I’ll become giddy with the thought of making it look perfect. All of the magazines addressed to me that have entered the home these past couple of months have brought my attention to spring cleaning. Other blogs have mentioned it, friends are doing it, so why not jump on the bandwagon?

I’ve had a friend kinda sorta living with me while Bill was gone. For some reason, I just don’t do my normal thing when company is around. Even though she technically wasn’t company, I was still way more Mary than Martha. Things got done, but not in my micro-managing way. She’s on her way out. This means my office moves OUT of my room and back into the spare bedroom. WOOHOO! Purging, refilling, tossing, recycling, donating. Love. It.

We’ve never lived anywhere as long as we’ve lived in this house since we’ve been married. Two years was tops for us. I’m used to being forced to go through everything we own every two to twenty four months (yes, we actually lived somewhere for two whole months) and evaluating what actually needs to stay in the family. We’re coming up on our fourth anniversary here. Time to touch everything and make a decision. My baby is almost three. Baby stuff: OUT. My oldest just moved from toddler stuff to full fledged kid stuff. Boy toddler stuff: OUT. I organized my upstairs linen closet this morning. I rearranged my laundry room cabinets which house not just laundry room items but paper plates and plastic cups, utensils, extra crepe paper left over from parties, extra food that won’t fit in the pantry (because I’m a Costco whore like that), baby wipes and cleaning supplies. I’m on my way to pulling everything out and getting the floors washed. Next on my list is my downstairs closet which is a dark tunnel that ends up underneath the stairs. Fortunately, I was anal enough to set up a shelving system in there when we moved in, so really, the only thing I have to organize is the first two feet. There are walls to magic erase and painting to do and carpets that need to be steam cleaned. My calla lilies are ripe for the cutting and Yankee is calling me to come get spring scented jar candles.

Are you busting out the rubber gloves?