Yesterday’s muted grey milieu proved the perfect atmosphere for working outside the confines of the walls of the house. The cloud cover remained for most of the morning and into mid-afternoon, sheltering me from the sun’s brutal rays while I power-washed the deck, the wrought-iron deck furniture, and the porch screen. The latter was the most challenging, as I had not given the screen a thorough cleaning since before my lung cancer diagnosis—so, November 2018. Well before that, I am sure; probably the Spring of that year. Oh, I’ve done some perfunctory cleaning since then, but nothing like the intensity a good cleaning demands. Finally, though, I tackled the beast. The effort involved moving very heavy tables and chairs, potted plants, grill, smoker, etc., etc. Quite the undertaking, I say.
I started after breakfast and finally, around 3:00 p.m., admitted I could do no more. I did not complete the job to my full satisfaction, but I am pleased with it, nonetheless. The view through the screen is clear, the pollen is gone from the screen, the chairs, the table tops, and the deck’s wooden planks. This morning, as I sat on the porch, sipping my coffee, the difference was stark; I am surprised I had been able to enjoy my time on the deck before the cleaning. Now, though, the experience is a delight. Oh, it could be better and it will be better as I continue the process of cleaning, repainting, and replacing a few more boards. Yet it is now sheer joy to sit there, listening to the birds and hearing the occasional lowing of cattle on the farm below us.
The process of a very late Spring cleaning continued this morning when I opened the kitchen windows and noticed that the screen were terribly dusty. So, I vacuumed the dust from them and was astonished at how much clearer a view I had to the outside world. I may have to go into full-scale cleaning mode.
The fierce winds and heavy rain that began around dusk yesterday afternoon continued the cleansing of the deck. After I had hauled all the cleaning gear out to the garage following my admission of exhaustion, I noticed a few places on the deck where I had failed to wash away dirty water that had accumulated when I washed the screen. Last night’s storms took care of them for me.
Mother Nature probably figured I did not need the aggravation of washing the deck again today, especially in light of how sore I am. Oh, yes, I am sore in places I had forgotten could be so unfriendly. My lower back, my shoulders, my wrists, and my neck are complaining loudly of the abuse I heaped upon them yesterday. A full-body massage, followed by soaking in a jetted soaking tub full of hot water until wine-time, would help with the aches, but I have neither a masseur nor a masseuse at my disposal, nor do I have access to a hot-tub. Ach, the awful injustice of first-world, middle-class poverty. I will survive even this affront to my comfort.
I’m in a philosophical mood at the moment, but not in the mood to write about my philosophies. So, I’ll stop writing and devote my time to thinking and, perhaps, reading about remedies for tired, aching, overworked muscles.