We have had quite a rash of fluffing up lately. The historic Torch Lake Inn has a new coat of paint and some interesting interior renovations. We will explore those another day, but isn’t that heartening?
The Whites’ barn, munched on by weather dragons during a snowier December in 2008, was repaired right smartly at the time, though with more attention to function than cosmetics. As I drove by the other day I was nearly blinded.
The White barn is white! Freshly so. And still a favorite of the birds.
It’s getting embarrassing. Miss Sadie, the Cowboy and I are united in our resolve. We are going to do a better job of keeping the Writing Studio and Bait Shop up to snuff. Since we always work better with an organizing principle in place, and since we are fond of stories, we went looking for the words to Here We Go ‘Round the Mulberry Bush—the little ditty that laid out the week’s housekeeping tasks day by day. We have to start somewhere, and that’s as good a place as any. The song’s instructions begin on Monday, of course, so there was the temptation to put off the project until Monday, but after some discussion we agreed that emergency measures were called for and we decided to plunge right in on today’s assignment. This is Friday. This is the day we will sweep the floors.
People who think Friday lets a person off lightly are people who do not keep spaniels.
Here is the whole list, as Chuck Hinman remembers it anyway,* and it sounds familiar to me:
- Monday: This is the day we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes – this is the day we wash our clothes so early Monday morning . . .
- Tuesday: This is the day we iron our clothes . . .
- Wednesday: This is the day we scrub the floor . . .
- Thursday: This is the day we mend our clothes . . .
- Friday: This is the day we sweep our floors . . .
- Saturday: This is the day we bake our bread . . .
- Sunday: This is the day we go to church . . .
Not that we sang this song at Gram and Grampa’s farm each week as we went about washing and ironing and scrubbing and mending, no indeed. But I have heard it sung. Now that I examine it, I wonder about the missing chores. What is the day we chop the wood? Plant the peas? Bale the hay? And what about all the tasks that have to be done every blessed day, over and over again? Ah well. This train of thought can quickly descend into a pit of despond.
This is the day we sweep the floors. Then we are going for a nice walk. Perhaps we will buy bread along the way, leaving Saturday free for adventure.
*I found Chuck Hinman’s reminiscence both engaging and thought-provoking. The whole Columbia Magazine (Adair County, Kentucky) site intrigued me. There was a photo of a reunion of Civil War veterans. Union Civil War veterans. I have a secret dream of an Antrim Magazine that would be like that but different . . . but I pulled myself together. This is the day we sweep our floors. Now! While the Cowboy is down on the beach admiring his own reflection.
Torch Lake Views 
Martha
January 6, 2012
I had forgotten that song. It’s rather dear, isn’t it. Nothing wrong with domestic bliss and a tidy home. Nothing wrong with taking care of things you have either! Cheaper than the gym. Those are all indoor things, there has to be an outdoor version of that song somewhere.
Gerry
January 6, 2012
Nothing at all. Tidiness is a condition devoutly wished for around here. But still . . . the list is so limited in its vision. Where is “This is the day we draft a poem, draft a poem, draft a poem”? I digress.
Martha
January 6, 2012
Yea. You’re right. But in my defense, I’d rather be digging a ditch WHILE writing a poem.
Gerry
January 6, 2012
Oooh – that has possibilities. This is the day we dig the ditch, make a rhyme, sing a line – This is the day we dig the ditch so early in the morning.
Martha
January 6, 2012
You’re so good. :^ D
Gerry
January 6, 2012
Only on sweeping day. The rest of the time I’m horrid.
Molly
January 6, 2012
I grew up singing that song and my mom was a housekeeper to beat the band. But I’ve never been able to keep up with that song’s ambitious schedule. I admire you for trying. If you decide you need another approach at some point, there’s always my favorite quote from Dorothy West: “I don’t cook or clean. I’m a writer.” Of course, Circumstances require that I take a middle course, doing some of all 🙂
Gerry
January 6, 2012
I tell you, if I could just get the mending thing down, and the sweeping, I’d be way ahead of the game. Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that need to be done around here that are not on the song’s list. (A lot of those things begin with “Go down in the crawlspace” so already we know that they’re going to get put off indefinitely.)
lynnekovan
January 7, 2012
I’m sure there was a bit with…. ‘Dashing away with the smoothing iron, Dashing away with the smoothing iron, she stole my heart away!’
Gerry
January 7, 2012
Wait, wait – she was running away with the smoothing iron? Astonishing. If I were to run away with a household appliance it would be the toaster oven.
P.j. grath
January 7, 2012
That’s not a bad old idea, Gerry, having a chore a day. Then a person could wave away nagging thoughts of all the other chores, telling them, “Sorry! Not your day yet!” I do find that getting a chore done–say, for instance, the floors–never takes me as long to accomplish as the time it took up in the nagging pile, weighing on me while I put off doing it. On the more positive side, there is a wonderful glow one can get from “doing laundry” in our modern, machine-assisted times: pop it into the washing machine and sit down with a good book! Now there’s a job! I’m looking forward to Monday already, just thinking about it!
Gerry
January 7, 2012
Would that there were just one chore a day. I do agree, though, that it generally takes less time to just do it than to be distracted by its whining from the nagging pile. (The nagging pile is a very good metaphor and I intend to make full use of it.)
Doing laundry is the one thing that actually gives a person a fleeting moment of accomplishment. I feel quite virtuous as I tuck the clean pairs of SmartWool socks into their drawer, and make a tidy pile of folded turtlenecks on the shelf. And rich, to have a whole drawer full of warm socks.
tootlepedal
January 7, 2012
I am so inspired that I am going to dash away with a smoothing iron
Gerry
January 7, 2012
Feel free to take mine. It hasn’t been on a good dash in a long time.
Maryanne Jorgensen
January 8, 2012
My Grandma must have had this one memorized but switched Wednesday for Friday. The whole neighborhood had sheets flying in the wind on Monday, even in winter. Two homes “took in the wash” of vacationers and the big lake houses and owned a second village lot full of clothes lines here in Elk Rapids.
Gerry
January 8, 2012
Smart Grandma. Sweep the floors first. Makes the scrubbing easier . . .
I love the image of yards full of sheets flying in the wind! One day I will make a picture of that, or something that reminds me of that.
uphilldowndale
January 8, 2012
I wish my epitaph to read
‘Life was too short for a clean and tidy kitchen’.
Once upon a time in a previous life, we employed a cleaner *sigh* there was that blissful moment, once a week, when you could walk through the door and ‘everything’ was sparkly and tidy. But the world turned, and in the end just keeping the wonderful cleaning person in cleaning materials was beyond budget.
Gerry
January 8, 2012
Interesting how life can take funny bounces. Once upon a time . . . ah but that was then and this is now and so it goes. I wish my epitaph to read “Out and About Adventuring.” Or perhaps, “Awaiting Developments.”
Karma
January 8, 2012
You have become quite the busy blogger-tweaker-writer, Ms. Gerry! Each time I pop over here it looks a bit different. Have you settled on the placement of the curtain rods?
People who think the sweeping day is the easy day do not keep colllies or retrievers either, I can tell you.
Gerry
January 8, 2012
Redecorating is fun. Sort of. I quickly tired of the black-on-black design, as it was too hard to read.
I remember when I had retrievers. Oh, my. And my granddog Fred, the Greatest Dog in the World, filled every corner of the Writing Studio and Bait Shop with clouds of silky black lab fur. Along about the time it was all swept up, it was time for him to come visit again. I miss Fred.
uphilldowndale
January 8, 2012
Dog fur is up there with Christmas tree needles and beach sand for staying power.
Gerry
January 8, 2012
Gahhhh! The Cowboy tracks in beach sand blended with fragrant, sap-coated needles from the giant white pine that came down across the road. He stows the whole mess under the couch to age.
Kathy
January 8, 2012
Today is the day we go to church! Did we go to church? I didn’t. 😦 I attend the church of Ordinary Days. It has less ritual than most churches, but I like it very much. (As I liked this blog, Gerry, thank you!)
Gerry
January 8, 2012
We went by church. I believe it’s about time for me to post another in the continuing series, Theology from the Eastport Baptist Church Message Board.
La Mirada Bob
January 8, 2012
…And my granddog Fred, the Greatest Dog in the World… Ha! I quickly skipped past that line due to concern that Amore’ might see it and feel hurt.
Gerry
January 8, 2012
Ah well. There are all sorts of criteria for the best and brightest and most beautiful of anything. We devised various stratagems to give each of our beloved dogs his/her own special title. Fred didn’t care what he was called, so long as he was called for dinner. Fred was the most laid-back dog I ever met. And the Greatest.
shoreacres
January 10, 2012
I grew up with the song and the schedule. My mother kept to the schedule, too, except the baking was done on Friday, along with sweeping and general cleaning.
If the ironing wasn’t completed on Tuesday, the cloths were sprinkled (remember the pop bottle with the red plastic sprinkler top?), rolled, wrapped and put in the refrigerator to be finished the next day. I ironed hankies, pillow cases, skirts and pajamas until I got old enough to do shirts and such.
Iron pajamas? I’m not entirely certain I could get up from this chair and walk straight to my iron. I think I have an iron….
Gerry
January 10, 2012
I do remember the sprinklers that fit into pop bottle tops, and I do have an iron – but I have never ironed a pajama in my life and at this advanced date hope to avoid the experience entirely. Hankies, though, those should make a comeback. They are a nice touch.