ode to floor scrubbing?

Down on my knees scrubbing our very dirty kitchen and hall floor today I can’t help remembering back years ago during an introductory course to Shiatsu where the couple giving it were macrobiotics and they extolled the virtue of floor scrubbing claiming that it was very good for the mind, soul and body.  That is probably so but I find in recent years what’s very good for my mind, soul and body is to drop my standards way down because to try and keep our floors impeccably clean would mean an end to my sanity.  I have a bunch of lads (my kids and husband) coming in and out of the house all day with muddy shoes on having been down the woods or in the garden, and following behind, hot on their heals, a rather dirty muddy mess of a dog who thinks it’s his god-given right to come and go as he pleases and who thinks that by following someone or other he will eventually get a walk or a treat or a bowl of food.

 

So while I have found my floor scrubbing today very worthwhile and yes, I do feel good inwardly and outwardly right now, wait until the stream of muddy shoes and paws come in and go out and come in again and drag in every last bit of mud from Charleville Forest into the house.  Oh just wait for the cursing and the giving out, and the neurosis building up inside me and I’ll vouch that I won’t clean the floors in a hurry again, at least not for another while until the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness wears off.

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