Gopher Gulch: Clearing out the cobwebs

And these are spiders the size of lemons, with legs like tigers — banded orange, white and black. They also have six more legs than I have. I don’t recall when they took over our hovel. One day I just noticed that I was no longer the biggest or fastest female in the house.

When I shake the livestock out of my jacket and go out to play, I bless Betty Musser, who years ago gave me a sign reading, “Dull Women Have Immaculate Homes.” I know there are incredibly wise, creative and interesting women who have clean houses. I’m just not one of them, and the sign practically gives me a mandate for messiness.

As a caregiver for frail elders, I invariably found that the lady of the house had given up trying to maintain order years earlier. There were always sliding stacks of junk mail, among which might be found the title to the car and an explanation for why the power was cut off. There were jars of jam marked 1972 and calendars on the wall from the mid-1980s.

My place is beginning to look distressingly like that. It’s winter and I’m stuck in a mess so ugly I don’t know where to start. But thanks to a dear friend, all this is beginning to change.

Judi, whose purpose in life is to create beauty, has considered House a challenge for decades. Such a challenge that she’s willing to travel from Gold Hill to spend a weekend with me now and again, during which we’ll clean, organize and decorate one room at a time.

It’s no wonder I have time issues, since you’re reading this week what I wrote last week. There will be no time to write last weekend. Last weekend for you, and next weekend for me, Judi and I will set sail on our maiden voyage into uncharted seas of organization. I’m so excited about having both company and help that I’m motivated to get started early.

We’ll begin with the kitchen. It’s the biggest disaster for a lot of reasons. For one thing, I can only reach the bottom shelf in each cupboard. If I try to set something on a second shelf, it’s apt to topple over unseen, which explains the molasses that apparently dribbled down through everything a few years ago. The third shelf requires a ladder. Why are kitchens built for tall people? It’s hardly ever the tall people who work there.

I can reach the back of the triangular cupboard in the corner only by crawling in. And there, in the back of that cupboard, I just came face to face with the grandmother of all spiders. Maybe I’ll just move.