Settling In More

I awoke early and headed for the living room.  If a girl was going to scrub the house from top to bottom, it might as well be in the cool of the morning.  Although the landlady had made sure to leave us a clean toilet, tub and kitchen sink (for which I'm very thankful!), I had a grimy feeling about our cottage.  Perhaps it was just the age of the place, or the humidity, but it felt like everything I touched was gritty.  If I could wipe down each room with some hot soapy water, I'd be more likely to feel at home.

Starting in one corner of the living room, I stood on my chair and gave the ceiling a wipe.  I could feel a gritty resistance.  I looked at my cloth - it was black.  Black!  And the ceiling was white...ish.  I rinsed out my cloth and scrubbed the same area of ceiling back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until FINALLY that little square of ceiling looked truly white.  Ugh.  The walls were the same: I went through buckets and buckets of hot, soapy water.



The ceiling - at least I can see where I left off!













 

 My bucket of hot, soapy water after scrubbing part of that corner of the living room wall.












I worked on the living room over three days.  Then came the bathroom.  There is a huge closet in our bathroom, one that goes a good four feet deep and five feet tall.  I'm actually inside of it in the photo below.  It was full of gross-ness, but was also a closet I needed to use.  So that was another day's task.  (As I worked, I kept saying, "Bah!" in disgust.  Aidan was soon taunting me with several cleaning renditions of "Bah! Bah! Black Sheep".)

I got a good start on cleaning this cupboard, but then took a break.  Guess I know exactly where to continue!

This was one wipe of the inside glass of this window!

As we continue to clean, we feel more and more like this place is ours.  I know every corner and have (or will have, hopefully soon) scrubbed every square inch.  The children have pitched in and they seem to be sharing the sense of ownership.








Surprisingly, what really helped me feel at home was when the kitchen was finally clean enough that I could unpack this container (below, left).  The container is the one I've used each week for the last year or two for making yogurt, and inside were my measuring spoons, little spatulas, and kefir lid.  Silly little stuff.  But to have this container in my hands again brought with it a sense of home and belonging.  And so, with our measuring spoons and yogurt bucket and kitchen scale in place again, Jon could make granola and I could make yogurt.  Putting this weekly routine into our cottage declared it our home.