let lemons be angry

A bit of a cleaning frenzy these days.

Yesterday I told my sec 2 girls the Proverb, for "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the arms to rest," and ruin will come to a house in the form of brambles and thorns and weeds. And I have been living it out by vacuuming every crevice in the shop, coming home to dust everything, and even scrubbing out 15-year-old filth from the inside of shelves. And I love my magical potions: Pledge for wood and appliances, Magiclean for glass, EasyoffBang! for the kitchen, Lysol for telephones, plugs and everything else that needs disinfecting.

It's the same way I enjoy long showers, and the unending cleaning procedures that continue after showers-- exfoliating, pore-extracting, careful tweezing of stray hairs, snipping of split ends. And my magical potions: scented moisturizer for the body, face moisturizers for when my skin is peeling, and exfoliating moisturizers for when it isn't peeling, toner so gentle it might as well be water, creams that heat up, and masks that disinfect, tighten, lift, brighten or nourish.  And on those glorious days when my nails need painting, my cleaning happiness hits the roof, because it means nail polish remover, filing, buffing, base coat, two coats of polish, top coat, and cuticle cleanup. Just writing about it gives me good chills.

I'm certain that my extended beauty routine is not about vanity, but rather, about my obsession with cleaning. My favourite part about handbells performances was having to polish the bells. When I was little, there was nothing I loved more than to magiclean glass doors in the middle of the day. And though I know it makes no difference whether my arms are exfoliated or not, I will do it because it gives me one more cleaning thing to do.