Normal is Relative

So I woke up on Monday morning, Memorial Day, and for the first time in nearly a month thought to myself, Hey, I feel normal! True, “normal” is a relative term – and we could possibly have a discussion here about how abnormal I am, but since I’m doin’ the writing, I’m gonna say, um, “No, not happening!” Let’s just say that – for me – my version of “normal” felt wonderful! In fact, I briefly considered dropping to my knees and shouting “Hallelujia! Ah’m healed!! Praise the Lawd!”

A tad dramatic? Perhaps. But being sick for nearly a month is no fun – no fun at all. It made me cranky and out of sorts and I had absolutely no sense of humor.

But I should probably correct one point. Since I slept away most of the mornings of the long holiday weekend, “Monday morning” also sort of meant “Monday around noon-ish.” Hey, I choose to believe that I needed the rest and was not just being lazy.

But, anyway, I finally got outta bed and went downstairs for lunch. It was over chicken salad sandwiches that I decided it would be a very good idea to finally excavate our bedroom. I mean, it had been nearly a month since anything but perfunctory “picking up” had gotten done.

So back upstairs I went. Now, if I hadn’t been feeling normal I may very well have plopped back down on the bed, gotten comfy, and finished the novel I was reading. But I didn’t. Instead, I powered up my iTunes for the appropriate “music to clean by” and started in on the top of my dresser, which had accumulated a scary amount of junk. Movie ticket stubs and lone earrings and grocery store receipts and an errant sock, the other of which must have permanently escaped as I hadn’t seen it in a while.

And while we’re on the subject, to where exactly do lone socks escape? It’s not like I go out for a drink or something and spontaneously decide to pull off one sock and leave it under the table. I mean, I think I would at least remember doing something like that.

I briefly wondered if Murphy’s Law would come into play if I were to toss that lone earring or errant sock – would I immediately thereafter find the other half of the pair? But I didn’t spend much time contemplating Murphy’s Law or any other existential thought – I just mindlessly started tossing. And cleaning. And dusting. And organizing. I pulled the sheers, curtains and decorative scarves off the windows and cleaned them. I did mass quantities of laundry. And, given that it was nearly June, I hauled all my winter shoes out of the shoe boxes in the closet and put them away in their proper storage bins (perhaps to allow more room for some fun new summer sandals? Hmmm…yeah, I’m kinda likin’ that idea!).

But, anyway, I also organized the linen closet and the under-the-sink cabinet. I spritzed and sprayed and scrubbed. I even took the finials off the curtain hold-back thingies (technical term) and washed them.

Yes, I was a veritable cleaning machine!

You should also know that our air conditioner chose this past weekend to conk out and no one was going to be able to fix it until Tuesday. So when I say it was hot upstairs, picture the fires of hell and some red guy with horns and a pitchfork – and you’ll get an idea of how truly warm it was.

Naturally, Vince thought I was crazy. That I should have, perhaps, waited a few days until the A/C was fixed before I started doing all this work. Not to mention that running the clothes dryer upped the temperature quotient ever closer to the boiling point. But I couldn’t be stopped. Well, at least not until I found myself cleaning the grooves in the bedside lamps with Q-tips. Only then did I start to think I may have taken the cleaning thing a little too far.

By this point, I was a wrung-out tired old mess and even the ends of my ponytail were drenched in sweat. So I finally decided I’d had enough. I took a cool shower and washed away the sweat and grime – and then went downstairs.

And, oh boy, was it hot down there, too. Vince had been frantically trying to eek out whatever coolness he could from the ailing air conditioner and, when those efforts failed, opened windows and doors trying to allow a little cross-breeze ventilation. Nothing worked. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he resorted to standing in front of the open freezer trying to cool down a little, but he managed to restrain himself. But for the rest of the evening, I suspect he was secretly shooting dirty looks in my direction, but I pretty much chose to ignore them.

Hey, I figured the excavation project was long overdue. Not only that, but I was feeling better, and a three-day weekend is the perfect opportunity to do some spring cleaning. Besides, spring cleaning while it is still technically spring brings its own sense of accomplishment.

True, neither of us slept very well in our hot bedroom that night, but I was happy that we were not sleeping in a clean bedroom at least. You never know when the finial inspection people will come around to check for dust.

Our A/C is now fixed – and it’s set right around “sub-zero” – but neither of us is complaining. I wonder, however, if I shouldn’t have kept at least one pair of winter boots and a sweater handy. Sub-zero is pretty chilly.

…but I’m still not complaining. And I’m thrilled with our clean and organized bedroom. And also that I’m finally feeling well again. Praise the Lawd.