I woke up today planning to clean the house “a bit.” 6 hours of nearly non-stop labor later, I filled four bags of random trash and also a box and a bag of decent stuff for donation. I swept and mopped the floors, moved a couple of bookcases, and rounded up a herd of dust buffalo (much larger than bunnies) from behind the furniture. I changed the sheets and did all of the laundry. I online shopped for home improvement ideas, and I decided to replace my old, cheap end tables with new cheap (but highly rated) end tables. The ones I have now are battle scarred ::glares at cat:: and were also very cheap; they lasted 10 years but are quite shabby. Time for this small update.
About half way through this very satisfying rampage, I realized what I was doing. Have you heard of Swedish Death Cleaning?
I believe today I invented American Rage Cleaning. I listened to a few favorite podcasts while I worked: Maddow, of course, and my personal source for both rage and encouragement, The Professional Left podcast. I’ve been reading and then listening to these two since the Bush Administration. I took a timeout from political stuff after my brain thing, and when I caught up with them again, they had met and GOT MARRIED!
I was a bit put out about this, because I had a heavy duty crush on Driftglass throughout the Bush years, but Bluegal is a lovely intelligent woman, and also a knitter! (Not to mention that they both lived in Illinois, so my odds of meeting Driftglass were between slim and none anyway.)
Years ago I fangirled all over Bluegal on Ravelry: “OMG!! You’re THAT Bluegal!!!” And again I feel guilty because I totally owe them a long email about how much I appreciate them. I’ve written to them in my head for years, usually while listening to their podcast and cleaning or walking the dog(s), and never managed to sit my ass down to write for real.
This week’s underlying theme was “Chop wood, carry water.” And I realized that was what I was doing with my cleaning frenzy today, and with my plans for the future.
I am NOT ignoring current events. Even though I don’t really want to get into the weeds and write about it for my health’s sake, I am very much engaged. Bluegal turned me on to Postcards to Voters and I wrote my ass off in 2018. I’m gearing up to do it again. If you’re feeling helpless but can’t go march or door knock or phone bank for whatever reason, you totally can sit down and write a postcard or three in the evening. They DO make a difference, and I think this personal communication will be even more important in November.
Don’t despair. Do some American Rage Cleaning, write a few postcards, you’ll feel better.
