Life…in the corners

I love to clean the house. Really. I especially like it in weeks like this when I am working but don’t have the time pressure of writing a sermon. I love cleaning the house because it has a beginning and end (despite the fact that housework never really does end, but that’s another subject.) I can immediately see the result of my labors. The tables are dust free. The mirrors shine. The bathrooms glisten. And the floors, ah…the floors. That’s where I really see the difference. The laminate floors are free of dust bunny tufts of cat hair, and the pieces of paper that Jack has shredded throughout the week. No spot gets by me. For only a few hours work there is such satisfaction. Cleaning the house is like a meditation. My mind is clear. The tasks are simple. Nothing complicated here. Except for the corners. Each corner harbors life. Is inhabited by interesting tiny creatures. Little dancing black spiders. Baby daddy long legs. Those slithery silvery bugs. The ants whose freeway is the sliding glass door track in my bedroom. It’s not bad on the days I sweep. It’s the big cleaning day when I vacuum that is fraught with danger. I’m extra careful around corners. I see the little ones scurry away as I get near. I try to vacuum carefully so that no little one gets sucked up. Sometimes they run in the wrong direction and I’m not quick enough and in a split second it’s too late. No matter how mindful I am, some days I suck life up in an instant. I beg forgiveness. Sometimes I think I should avoid the corners all together.

There is life in the corners.

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