Last week I was talking with my sister and she asked me if we had ever considered downsizing since we have this big house for just the two of us, “And I don’t know how you manage to keep it clean.”

I laughed hollowly because, yes, I would love to downsize to a one-floor house with no pool. But outside of having to move for a job the only way I will ever be able to talk the Brit into downsizing is if we can find a place with enough back yard space to build a very, very large workshop so he can keep all of his stuff.

But that’s a matter for another day. When it comes to cleaning the house, I have to admit that I slack a lot of the time unless I know someone’s coming—it’s not filthy or a hoarder house by any means, but I don’t bother that much about dusting every day, and sometimes stuff can build up until I get a wild hair and decide to put everything away.

As of this year, however, I’ve started a Sunday morning ritual that has really stood me in good stead. Now, mind you, this won’t work if you have kids or someone waiting for you to get up but I figure there’s always kibble in the bowls so the cats won’t starve before I can make it downstairs.

Ever Sunday morning, before I leave the bedroom, I clean the master bathroom. We have a fairly large one with a separate little toilet cubicle so this is my cleaning plan:

• Sweep the floors
• Wipe down everything in the toilet cubicle with a damp cloth
• Clean the toilet
• Wipe down the counters/cabinets/tub/shower enclosure/windowsill
• Use the old hand towels to polish the mirrors and dry off anything that’s still damp
• Tie up the cubicle garbage bag and toss; put new bag in the bin
• Empty the litterbox
• Mop the floor (this is a major project because I wash and then rinse, so this is a once-a-month step and the rest of the time I spot clean)

It takes me about thirty minutes, and by the time I’m done the bathroom is sparkling and smells great. I’ve been doing this because for the longest time the master bath received the least attention because it’s one of the rooms only the Brit and I see and I had so many other rooms to clean, not to mention so much other stuff to do. But I finally got fed up with always having hair in the sink and toothpaste spatter on the mirrors so I instigated this ritual. It’s also why I’ve been organizing the bathroom drawers over the last few weeks, and why I’ll be doing something similar to the undersink cabinets in the near future. If nothing else, I will always have one room in my house that my female ancestors will approve of.

So now you know how I start my Sundays. And now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and do the taxes. Whee…

I was out running errands today and came across this scene as I was about to turn onto the main street near our hour. Yes, those are vultures, black vultures to be precise, and one is in the process of dealing with a flattened squirrel carcass while the other keeps watch. I pulled over to take this shot and the lookout just eyed me casually while the other one kept butchering the carcass, even lifting it and hauling it closer to the curb so that s/he could keep working while I passed.

Hey, it’s the circle of life. And vultures need to eat, too. Better this than a stinking mass of decayed squirrel once the weather warms up again.

I went to bed last night at midnight and pretty much stayed in bed until 3:00 PM today, barring the occasional bathroom visit. My throat feels rough but doesn’t hurt, I’m still really tired but managed to clean the bathroom, start various loads of laundry going, and straighten up the kitchen so I can’t be that badly off, and I took a COVID test that came out negative. Hopefully whatever this is is responding to rest, lots of liquids, and aspirin as needed.

Apparently the Brit isn’t feeling too peppy either so we may have the same thing, whatever it is. I figure I’ll order a pizza tonight, relax, and get another early night, and hopefully things will be better tomorrow.

Int he meantime T gave me a most unexpected compliment yesterday. We were standing at the coffeeshop counter waiting to give our orders when she gave me an odd up-and-down look. “Are you losing weight?” she asked.

I said yeah because I’ve been losing a little and I think the kefir is helping to regulate my gut so I’m not quite as bloated as I’ve been. “I can tell—your silhouette is smaller when I’m looking at you from the side.”

So I’ve got that going for me.

As is our wont, my friend T and I went out for coffee today (well, she had coffee, I had thai milk tea with boba) and afterwards I got her to got to Daiso with me. For those of you who don’t know, Daiso is the Japanese equivalent of a Dollar Store, only the stuff is of much better quality and they sell EVERYTHING you could ever need, like the old variety stores did. I walked out with four nice cereal bowls, two sets of drawer organizers for the bathroom, a bottle of raspberry tea, and a little cafe table and chairs set that’s foot to the inch and will work perfectly in a dollhouse at some point, all for $27. Anywhere else I would have spent that much on the bowls alone. T came back with a nice haul as well, and we’re planning on visiting the Korean BBQ place next to Daiso some weekend.

After that, though, my energy level fell through the floor. I made a batch of tarragon chicken salad so we could nosh on that for dinner, then basically hid in my office from the cats (I know, I know, but sometimes I need alone time) and picked at the Garden Paths pieces. When all I want to do is put my head down and take a nap on my sewing table, I know something’s wrong. So I’m heading off to bed early tonight in the hopes of nobbling whatever this is.

Dallas got whacked with a bit of a winter storm as of yesterday, and today we woke up to this.

That’s not snow, by the way. That’s ice. Apparently we had freezing sleet come down this morning according to the Brit (even got thunder sleet in some areas of Collin County), and the back yard is currently a winter wonderland. I can hear the crows arguing out there and I’m tempted to toss out a batch of peanuts for them.

Luckily for us the power and heat has stayed on (not always a guarantee in Texas as we learned in February 2021) and the temps will slowly start going up tomorrow afternoon until we get rain and temps in the 40s on Thursday. A sunny day on Friday with temps in the 50s should clear away any last traces of ice. We’re stocked up with pretty much everything we need (although I wish I’d picked up more bread flour) so technically we don’t have to go out until Friday if we don’t want to.

In the meantime, I’ve got books to write and chicken curry Chelsea buns to make tonight, so I’m set.

So I found out that a family member died this morning (it was expected, the family member was surrounded by loved ones and had lived a good long life so while I’m sad this isn’t sudden or a tragedy). And all of a sudden I was hit with the strongest urge to clean. I mean, it’s like I have a voice in the back of my head saying, “Go clean. Go clean. Go clean.”

I don’t know if this is something buried in my epigenetics where you clean your house after someone dies so that you can have guests for the wake and funeral or what. But it’s gotten to the point where I’m about to go strip the bed, wash the bedding, and completely dust and vacuum our bedroom (already did the master bath this morning), then vacuum my office and what I can reach of the media room and the hallway outside our offices, then vacuum the downstairs because what the hell, why not.

There’s also a certain odor of cat pee downstairs that may also be driving this. I’ve already washed everything on the futon but the Brit and I are afraid that J.J. has taken to tinkling a couple of drops on the carpet every now and then, and other than shampooing the entire carpet the only way we can handle that is to find the damned UV flashlight, identify any spots, and hit them with My Pet Peed.

In any case I’m going to bow to the wishes of the ancestors and do a good solid clean of the place. If nothing else, we’ll sleep well tonight in beautifully clean bedding.

The Brit had headed off for his weeky D&D game and I was sewing and listening to episodes of Pod is my Copilot, as you do, when Taylor mentioned the training he was doing for a 5K and how much walking he had been doing.

And suddenly I got the strongest urge to go for a walk. So I got up, put on my Skechers, plugged in my earbuds and walked around the block. Now, these are suburban blocks so they’re not quite as big as city blocks but they’re still sizeable and it took me eighteen minutes to make a full circult of the block.

Allow me to point out that when I was walking on the treadmill before the motor went boom I used to hang onto the handrails (because I’m still a little scared of falling and because I’m kind of lazy, don’t @ me). But yesterday was real world walking where I had to control my core and stand up straight as I strode along the extremely uneven sidewalk. And I did it. I was sweating by the time I got home and the muscles around my new knee were complaining like anything but by God I did it.

I want to get to the point where I can walk anywhere without limping or being exhausted or in pain. So if walking around the block every day will get me there, by God I’ll do it.