Yeah, I seem to be channeling The Commander lately. How else do you explain my feverish drive to wash the windows and rake the yard. I have been known to do these kinds of chores in my life. I am actually sort of a “clean freak”. I may not be able to hold a candle to The Beautiful Gay but I do like things to be clean. I regularly clean kitchens and bathrooms. I get easily derailed by clutter in other rooms, which is one reason I am always talking about flinging.

Windows? For whatever reason, I don’t usually notice whether the glass is clean or not. I think I (just now) figured out why. To me, light is light. My windows never get dirty enough that I can’t see squirrels or rabbits or Burke in his birthday suit out the window. But really, I’m more concerned about the light *inside* the house. 1) I like a lot of natural light. 2) I don’t like a lot of artificial lucky-shuckial light. 3) I love using small xmas-style LEDs at night. Heck, we don’t need a whole bunch of big lucky-shuckial lights to read any more, do we? (Disclaimer: I do know that many people still like to read an actual paper book.)

I got off on a tangent there. The Commander was very particular about having spotlessly clean windows. Me? Not so much. As mother and daughter, we had a relatively complicated relationship. Nothing like what you might see on Days of Our Lives or whatever (we did NOT watch soap operas when I was a kid. Those were “beneath” us [big-grin].) Our trajectory? A rebellious teenager grew up and realized her mom was actually cool and smart. A long period of glasnost and many many fun times followed the birth of the grandchildren. By the time Mom got to her late 80s, she realized that she couldn’t really live independently but diligently kept up appearances, knowing that her daughter was deeply involved in her third career and was willing to let things slide a bit…

But also… Daughter was treated like a rebellious teenager again. This time is wasn’t that I was out late or hanging around with Bad Boyfriend. It was that I didn’t do basic household chores exactly how The Comm would do them. Like when she (repeatedly and somewhat shrilly) said, “You haven’t ever learned how to wring out a washcloth!”. Sigh… To clean up a big ugly spill on the floor, you need a wet washcloth. Once you get the mess cleaned up, you use a wrung-out washcloth or even a paper towel, depending, to get the blasted floor dried out… … …

It was okay and I *usually* just sucked it up. When the time came, I joked with the hospice folks that I was not The Comm’s favorite child. I know that wasn’t true. Honestly, *I* do not have a favorite child and I don’t think The Comm did either. But I do know that she would have rather had my brother be around to help her make the horrific decisions she ultimately had to make with meeeee.

Anyway, the Landfill windows are sparkling clean inside and out today and the sun is shining in the front window and various prisms are scattering rainbows all over the front room and The Comm would’ve enjoyed that.

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