I've not spoken all weekend. Hmm, let me clarify, I've not spoken to others, I talk to myself all the time. It probably means I'm crazy but I'm ok with that. (Insert maniacal giggle here.) It's been a very quiet weekend and I've chosen to spend it in my space.
I love my space; it's not large, but it's comfortable, feels cosy and I feel safe surrounded by my things: Flowers, photos, soft cushions and blankets, my bed, the scent of vanilla, coffee and my perfume, Incanto Charms by Salvatore Ferragamo, ornaments and trinkets I've collected, some bought, some found, and the most important things...My cats and books. It's a place I drop the mask I mostly wear.
One thing I love about my space is that it's clean, usually. I'm fastidious about it and I set today aside for the mundane activity of cleaning my space.
If you look carefully in this picture you can see me in the photo frame
I listen to lots of good music when cleaning, played way to loud of course. I have a system also, a specific order in which I do things going room to room (there's not many rooms) doing things in the same way every time, that way nothing gets missed.
I also have a clean-up weekend uniform of old yoga crop top and short boxer shorts that have seen better days; they're loose in places where they shouldn't be, but it's just me so who cares, yes? I add in a haphazardly tied hair scrunchie to hold up my hair back and I'm ready to start...after a sleep in, long breakfast, two coffees and cuddle with my cats and...oh my, it's almost lunch time! 🙃
I love cleanliness, a fact you'd understand if you knew the inordinate amount of time I spend in the bath. I like that feeling of being clean and that extends to my home. There's no dust.
That's a lie...there's a little, but so little that there's hardly any to clean up on clean-up weekends like this one. I clean a little each day mostly, every day, so on major clean-up weekends it's that bit easier to do the top to bottom clean and get that dust that escapes my daily cleans.
I've spent last night and today cleaning skirting boards, cornices, the top of doors and window frames, the light shades (and globes), ceiling fan, windows inside and out, the little water trays beneath my potted plants, the bath (I did this whilst resisting the urge to fill it up and have a bath!), under my bed, (changed the sheets and flipped the mattress too), cleaned the track in the sliding door to my balcony, and about a million other things besides. Don't judge me but...I even cleaned my house keys...The grooves in keys get so grubby.
I listened to music the whole time and sang. I have a reasonable singing voice, but probably not nearly as good as I think it is. There's no one here to torture with it though, so I sang and imagined it sounded really good.
What definitely was good was the feeling of having a splendidly clean place and as I peeled my cleaning outfit off, which didn't take long as there wasn't much of it, and stepped into the bath I felt happy with my efforts.
I laid back, eyes half-lidded, watching steam rise off the water allowing the lavender bath oil to lull me to the point of deep relaxation along with the sounds of Michael Bublé coming from my Bluetooth speaker. I sipped a cup of chamomile tea now and then and, when I could be bothered, raised my hand to watch water droplets fall back into the bath water. I was tired, but relaxed and deeply satisfied. Not even the fact my toe nails needed repainting could cause me concern when I felt like this.
I'm looking forward to nothing.
I mean, I'm looking forward to being in my space, my amazingly neat, tidy and clean space, and doing nothing but reading, cuddling cats, listening to music and making my signature dish, spaghetti bolognaise for decadent dinner for one. That's the plan for Sunday.
I love my space and don't mind that I'm alone within it; I like it that way. I get lonely sometimes, but my interactions with people usually make me want to retreat anyway; when did people become so rude, selfish, demanding and arrogant? My space nurtures me and within it I feel happier, safer and more content than I do when outside. I think it's partly because I don't allow others to come here, I don't allow that intrusion, nor trust it. I'm not sure what that says about me, or about the outside world and other people, but it works.
Becca 💗