reinje's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Balance All this practicing is really cutting into my cleaning time. There is a thick layer of dust covering anything that doesn�t move, and possibly some things that do. I try not to think about where the dust comes from. We are lucky enough to live on the East River, with a schrakjlijch good view of New York. I don�t want you to think I�m complaining, but sometimes I fixate a little bit on the less-than-stellar ramifications of the location. There are days when I even might imagine that there is a steady stream of pollution, soot and dust and, worse yet, sloughed off skin with its accompanying mites flowing towards me every day from the 8 million people residing in Manhattan. It�s like all those germs cross the river in one Big Wall of Smut and bang against my 24th floor window until I let them in, unwittingly, on a sunny spring day. It would not be hyperbole to say that I enjoy cleaning, that I clean pretty much every day. There are perhaps those who would characterize my cleaning as compulsive, maniacal even. But to be completely frank with you, I would say that my cleaning is, at best, a little patchy, and at worst, erratic. For example, imagine that I just finished cleaning every horizontal surface of its dust and mites. That ought to count for something, right? But what of the droopy roses in the vase? Or the useless VCR that clings stubbornly to our TV set? What of that? Not to mention the closets. Jauma lied! I saw this show on Oprah where she asks people what room in the house they don�t want anyone to see. Evidently, this room usually says something (appalling and reprehensible) about the person who owns it. Oprah asked us what room in our house we hide from guests. That was easy. The closets, of course! But let me be the first to tell you I don�t have any skeletons in my closet, in case that�s what you�re thinking. Nobody told me that when I moved to New York the closet would become the bane of my existence. I mean, don�t get me wrong. I�m not an idiot. I know that closet space here is worth a mint. But I wasn�t prepared for the challenge of organizing such a miniscule corner. And I am the Queen of Organizing! So I happily clean the apartment, but all along a little niggling voice in the back of my head reproaches me for my overstuffed closets. I mean, I�m not bragging, but the fact is that in Minneapolis, we had � the mind reels � seven closets! And three of them were walk-in closets! And one of those was large enough to hold a small car. I am not kidding! Well, I don�t even care what people say about the pollution or closet-space here in New York. It�s all worth it. And the best part is that I think I achieve a Balance, you know. I mean, when I practice I hardly think at all about the dust and closets and mold. And when I clean, I hardly give a thought to the hundreds of pages I have to learn in the fedaumte opera scores. It�s the best of both possible worlds! Maybe He�ll organize the closets when I�m away at Opera Camp this summer? -Reinje 2:15 p.m. - 2005-04-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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