Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

My next door neighbor says she doesn’t think her house is clean unless her windows sparkle. Me? I settle for lower standards. I think my house is clean when everything is in its proper place and the bed is made. It’s all right if there’s a layer of dust and the windows have spots.

My neighbor told me she’s already done her windows twice this spring. For a woman with acute arthritis, this is dedication to her standards. This past weekend, Earl and I attempted to meet her criterion. We spent a couple hours on Saturday and again on Sunday washing our fifty-two windows on the outside and the inside. That’s over one hundred surfaces and four bottles of Windex®. We didn’t do it to please my neighbor; rather it’s an annual ritual. We clean our windows once a year whether they need it or not.

I must admit the windows look great, but the first heavy rainfall will blot our work on the outside and make the inside look less clean. No matter, it’s something one does in the spring, as far as I’m concerned; and it’s probably good for the soul as well as the view.