She hangs there with bits of confetti dripping from her horse
hair. Even my dear broom looks as if she has a hangover from
yesterday's Purim excitement.
And I sit there wondering what the real reason is that women
also wake up a bit overwhelmed on this day, and seem to try
to "recover." Should we assume that it is the exhaustion due
to: dressing those little ones in costumes, sending
mishloach manot, cooking and eating (and over- eating)
a seuda and running out to hear the Megillah?
Yes, but ladies, we all know that it is more than that. We
know the truth. Even while we are laundering Queen Esther's
gown and storing the beards, hats and groggers, our minds are
busy delving into the not-so-far-away future: that other
holiday that also begins with the letter P...
In my younger years, I sat outside with my little ones,
sharing thoughts with other mothers on park benches.
Together, we were seeking to find good ideas on how to
"finish" on time (while still remaining sane).
I've gone to lectures of wonderful rebbetzins who gave hints
galore from their many years of experience.
My personal library consists of a mountain of books on how to
unclutter, de- dust, organize, re-organize, clean and shine
just about everything that didn't move. Some books even gave
some home-made "potions." Neighbors would enter our home
convinced that I was pickling enough cucumbers for the whole
block; when in reality, my stainless steel faucets were ever-
so-shiny from a vinegar concoction.
I have used toothbrushes for the rubber around my fridge, the
corners of my counters, the soap dispenser of my washing
machine and so many other places that I forgot what the
toothbrush was originally invented for. And who ever said
that Q-tips are meant to clean ears? I beg to differ.
Listening to tapes has always been great for me. I heard
tapes on what I have to clean, why, how and when. I worked
late into the night or got up before the first riser to make
the day seem 25 hours long. I raced to clean the kitchen
early but somehow, it was always too early.
Amongst those entering our humble abode over the years have
been Seminary girls, Yeshiva bochurim, and we even
enlisted... yes, our own offspring, to chip in their youthful
energy. A big, scary, steaming machine was dragged in for the
hard-to-get-to places (which I was better off not getting
to).
I've washed dolls until their owners claimed that they never
met them and have no desire to. My washing machine enjoyed
the company of pillowcases filled with lego and stained
tupperware.
I beat rugs, scrubbed corners and anxiously attempted to
vanquish any crumb that dared to appear within my reach.
But this year, I said to myself, is going to be different.
No, I'm not claiming that I will not adopt any of the ideas
that I have collected in the past twenty years. But I hope
b'siyata dishmiya, that this erev Pesach, will
be different. How? I want to do it (bli neder!)
B'SIMCHA - in joy. That will be a new, higher level and I
have a strong feeling that it will even make it much
easier.
