Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Northern Mandate
Call it the Northern Mandate.
For some, Spring Cleaning is an annual rite.
But here in the Uttermost North, we have Fall Cleaning too.
During Summer, our attentions and efforts are outward-directed. We're out doing things. (Quickly, there's not much time.) Doors and windows are open. In-house work gets neglected.
But now it's Winter. Our attentions and efforts turn inward. Windows and doors are closed, and we're facing the prospect of being shut in with all this for the next six months.
It's only natural to do what you can to undo Summer's lapses: to make where you are as bearable as you possibly can.
Well, the White Ravens have flown. Yet again we give in to the age-old urge.
Quick: get the vac, the sponges, the brushes.
Sorry, gotta run.
That mark on the floor over there is driving me crazy.
Comments
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Tuesday, 07 November 2017
Gods speed the work.
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Just such has gripped me. Moving furniture, dispatching dust bunnies, and moving broken things on to their next lives.