Cleaning out in the Cruelest Month

You know, I'm finding that God always answers prayers. Sometimes, we just have to be tuned in to the right frequency.

I have a confession-- I rarely mop my floor. I'm a pretty clean person, and I like for things to be tidy, but it seems that I rarely get around to sweeping, swiffering and mopping. It's terrible, I know, but my tile especially is very, um, well, brown. It's beautiful and it doesn't show the dirt. But it's brown and doesn't show the dirt-- you see what I mean? Though I love the convenience of not having to mop every other day, I'm afraid I've fallen into the habit of not mopping... ever.

And OK, that's an exaggeration of course. But my sister-in-law would probably freak out if she knew how long it'd been since I'd given the floors the type of thorough cleaning she claims to do once a week (though I suspect it's more often than that). But it's easy to let it go, and sometimes I justify myself in thinking I'll change later. I'll get around to it. It's not that big of a deal.

Well, this morning in my rush to get out the door to the gym, I accidentally broke this beautiful candle holder. It was on the ledge of my bathtub and when I went to grab a towel post-tooth brushing, I knocked it over on the floor. It was sad because I'd never even lit the candle (how's that for logic? Oh! It's too pretty!). Fortunately, the glass didn't shatter too far, but I think we've all learned the hard lesson that once you break glass, it's not enough to sweep. You sweep. Then you dry Swiffer. Twice. You wash your bathmats and vacuum the surrounding rugs. You wet Swiffer. You mop. And just for good measure, you wear flip-flops around for the next few days to avoid a rogue shard of glass embedding itself in your foot.

Even though it was sad to lose my pretty little robin's egg- blue and brown flocked candle holder, I really felt like this was a metaphor for something bigger going on in my life at the moment. Last night, I had this really upsetting conversation with someone who's in a habit of hurting my feelings about as frequently as I put off mopping. Last night was particularly bad. And I'm not completely stupid-- I know I ought to probably cut this person out of my life, but I keep putting it off. I simply don't want to do it, and I've not been convinced it would bring me much happiness... just like mopping. But just like my candle-holder was broken, so's my relationship. And there's simply very little more I can do than sweep it up, throw out the broken bits, and be grateful that I still have a candle to burn, even without the protection of what was, on the surface, protective and beautiful for several months. I may have to mop up that segment of my life, because the relationship shattered a while ago, and though I thought I took care of it, little sharp fragments of this man I love keep shredding me. As much as I hate the thought, I think some spring cleaning will do me good.