Spring Cleaning

The phone rings, it’s Stephan, he says ta take a look outside, it’s earthquake weather. But ya know I kinda don’t wanna because if I do I’ll have to exert all that energy that it’ll take just to get up and part the blinds ta look out. Although even from where I’m layin’ I can hear someone outside my window probably down below on the sidewalk talkin’ real low like they’re conspiring, makin’ plans for something, which certainly wouldn’t be an earthquake, and not wanting to know who it is or what the hell they’re doin’ down there I really don’t wanna get up and open the blinds.

Yet layin’ here in bed I can see the sun tryin’ ta maneuver its way around the windowsill and get in my room. Which thankfully, hence the blinds, is as dark as it can get and like I said I’m in no hurry to open them up to let the sunshine in or anybody else for that matter. And layin’ here contemplating cleanin’ my apartment I’m really in no mood for company, bright lights or even retrieving my clothes that are hopefully still goin’ round and round in the dryer down the hall.

Only the phone keeps ringin’ and because I told myself that I’d at least answer every other call I reach down and make the effort and then immediately regret doin’ so. It’s some deranged women whose all whacked outta her mind tellin’ me that she loves me while askin’ if I know where to get some valium and here it is we haven’t even seen each other in like at least ten years. And after only a few minutes, which seems like a life time of utter chaos, I tell her that I gotta go and hang up and stare at the ceiling thinkin’ about my clothes in the dryer and whether or not they’re dry.

Across the room on my desk sits the clock, its digital face starin’ at me sayin’ that its 3pm in the afternoon which makes sense when you think about the trajectory of the sun’s rays, but still doesn’t excuse the amount of unwanted phone calls. Behind the clock over by the laptop I can see that the dust is slowly encroaching back from where it was banished some many many moons ago and that the calendar that’s hangin’ in the corner states that the month is March though who knows of which year.

Unfortunately without even looking I already know that the kitchen sink is fulla dirty dishes and the mirror that’s hanging above the sink is so smudged that even if I did get up to look I’d have a hard time recognizing if the blurred image was mine. Meanwhile the mini fridge’s mini icebox has a not so mini Nordic glacier pokin’ outta the door which keeps it slightly ajar if I don’t take the time to kick it when I try ’n shut the damn thing.

But ya know if I don’t get up soon’n fetch my stuff from the dryer I’ll be seeing all the crackheads in my building wearin’ my clothes for the next couple a weeks. And I gotta tell ya that nothin’ and I do mean nothin’ gets me more ticked off than ridin’ the elevator with some grungy dope fiend that hasn’t taken a shower in weeks and he’s wearin’ my best black dress shirt and Levis!

Reachin’ under the bed for my regulation size 44 Kung Fu shoes I grab a dust bunny that’s girth makes the glacier in my mini refrigerator pale in comparison. And just where do these things come from I wonder? Of course as I’m holding this unholy abomination aloft to really get a good look at it the phone starts to ring again and if I wasn’t so pressed for time to go and secure the fate of my clothes I’d probably just lay back down in the bed and go to sleep.

Cautiously leaving my apartment, the dust bunny safely tucked under my arm and solemnly on its way to the trash chute, I notice that the hallways are empty and to tell you the truth I ain’t seen a livin’ soul all day. Although usually, on Sunday especially, the locals seem to like to wander around aimlessly tryin’ various apartment doors to see if anyone left theirs open or, as I was referring to earlier, hangin’ round the laundry room lookin’ to come up on a quick clean change of clothes.

Once in the laundry room I notice that the dryer’s stopped turnin’ but the stupid clothes ain’t dry yet, hell, whaddya want for a dollar these days anyway? Lookin’ down I notice that the dust bunny’s left a trail of chalky detritus on the front of my t-shirt and that too doesn’t really please me. Though I gotta take the rap for this one, like if I’d vacuumed under the bed every once in a while then maybe there wouldn’t a been a dust bunny lurkin’ there in the first place.

Damn, ya know now that I think of it I don’t think that I’ve ever even once vacuumed under the bed! And now thinkin’ about it further I’m startin’ ta wonder what it looks like behind the mini fridge or over in the corner behind the TV? Well, actually no I’m not.

Yet standin’ there amongst the piles of empty strewn detergent boxes and discarded anti-static fabric softenin’ strips that litter the laundry room floor I gotta admit that my apartment’s a tad cleaner than what I’m lookin’ at now. But then again so are most public rest rooms. Though now in light of this quick comparison maybe I don’t gotta go give my apartment a good spring cleaning after all and just maybe all this inertia that I’m feelin’ from havin’ to even consider cleaning the crusty walls of my shower or washin’ that area under the electric range that all the rotting food bits fall into. Like when I’m actually fryin’ an egg or grillin’ a cheese sandwich and inadvertently some a the crumbs make there way down there and then due to a major flaw in the design somebody’s gotta get them out and unfortunately I think that that someone is suppose to be me!

Inserting another four quarters into the dryer I punch the “on” button and hear the machine start up again. Lookin’ out into the hall I see that the coast is clear and I quickly make my way back in the direction of my room. A loud bangin’ noise erupts outta the trash chute as I go by and I can’t help but be concerned that the dust bunny may be on his way back up this time seekin’ my blood as vengeance. Too bad I gotta go back to the laundry room when and if my clothes ever dry otherwise I’d just lay low in my room for a month or two until this whole spring cleanin’ thing blows over.

3 Responses

  1. lab munkay

    Bed skirts trap dust bunnies in. I never have to go there now.

  2. boxen

    Why’re they called dust bunnies? Is it because they jump out randomly? Real bunnies do have a plan.

  3. Adriana Bliss

    You know, if it wasn’t for the kids in my life, your day…sounds like what mine would be like. I so feel that darkness you’re describing, the hopeful passing of required, nay, suggested spring cleaning.

    Great writing as usual, m’dear.