SPRING CLEANING

I figured the easiest and least-argumentative way to approach spring cleaning was to give Mr. Wonderful a project. 

Just one. Only one.

The man is a sweetheart. Every day he makes our bed, artistically placing six decorative pillows in position at the headboard. He empties the dishwasher, takes out the trash, and is quick to say, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just ask.”

So I did.

I said, “Look, I’ll handle moving our winter clothes into the storage closet and hauling out our summer stuff. I’ll take your old faded shirts to Goodwill. I’ll organize the new cabinets in the garage and rearrange the pantry shelves that are still crammed with Santa cookie tins. I’ll clean out the ‘fridge and get rid of mustards and relish that expired a year and a half ago. And then I’ll call our wonderful cleaning lady and have her take over.  So …. what would you like to do to get us prepped for Spring?”

Mr. W said, “I’ll get my golf $imulator up and running. That way we can start practicing because the club opens late this week.”

(I managed to put a half-Nelson hold on my tongue.  My husband is passionate about golf. He blissfully watches reruns of the ’97 Masters. A shelf in his office is lined with golf instruction books, almost all of them titled “The Swing and How to Fix It.” He owns 45 putters. Invariably, six of them are lined up next to his tv-watching chair so that he can practice during commercials.)

Mr. W’s high-tech state-of-the-game golf $imulator fills up one half our garage. I’m not complaining but, when it’s set up and and someone’s blissfully hitting golf balls into a gigantic white screen hanging from the back wall, someone else’s car has to park outside. Guess whose?

“But the $imulator has a slight glitch,” he told me.

Apparently, Mr. W isn’t happy with his ball speed. “When I hit balls off the rug, the fibers are going in the wrong direction and they slow down my ball,” he said. “I’m losing a lot of distance.” 

I suggested we just turn the rug around so the fibers go in the right direction, but there was more. The mat needs “to be softer, with more cushioning. I want everything to feel more natural, like when I actually hit a ball on the fairway.”

He spent a full day and into the evening researching “mats” on his MacBookAir, then describing to me in great length the benefits and differences between nylon fibers and wear-resistant astroturf. The next day he drove to Home Depot, then on to Loews, searching for a solution. 

He returned with a 12x24” piece of plywood, a thick black rubber mat, a plexiglass square, and several samples of fake turf. They are currently in a pile in his basement workshop. Progress has ground to a halt. 

Yesterday afternoon I found him sitting in his chair, head in hands, a living breathing inspiration for Rodin.  I asked, “Everything okay?”  

“Yes, I’m just engineering. This is not an easy job,”  he said, and went back into deep thought. 

Meanwhile, the pantry, refrigerator and garage cabinets are impeccable. Our walk-in closet is a rainbow of summer pastels. The Goodwill bin is chockablock. 

The golf club opens today but spring “cleaning” is still happening here in the Wells woods.