Scrub-a-dub-dub.
My writing pal gifted the world with a delightful short play in response to my prompt for them this week, entitled A Dozen, Please, and I look forward to seeing it on the Broadway stage soon.
My prompt for this week: Write a moment where you felt lighter.
When I see dust, I log it in my brain. A scuff on the floor, I’ll notice again and again until I have the time to scrub it clean. I’ll lose myself in thoughts over my shower’s need for a date with Scrubbing Bubbles Fresh Action line of products as I shampoo.
Cleaning days are a treat.
I’ve always been on the tidier side. As a three-year-old, I have memories of dedicating my afternoons to emptying my dresser drawers, sitting on my knees on the floor, and refolding all my clothes. Each tiny shirt and pair of pants neatly stacked, aligned, beautiful. In the solitude of folding, I found relief, and I took great pride in the finished task.
I’ve always loved the peace that comes with a freshly cleaned environment—one filled with meaningful objects, books, and signs of living—a home cared for, rearranged, and refreshed. On cleaning days, it’s grounding for me to indulge in a podcast or audiobook, and as my hands are preoccupied with the thoughtless tasks of wiping, scrubbing, and sweeping, my mind is free to roam.
Other than driving, few things bring a sense of lightness like this, and I consistently look forward to having carved out time to grab a sponge, grab a mop, and go to town.