I used to clean the windows in my house twice a year, inside and out, top to bottom. Once in the spring, after pollen season. Once in the fall, in preparation for a winter spent inside looking out. The ritual always felt like a major accomplishment and was deeply satisfying.
Nowadays, Jane has wisely banned me from spending time on ladders, so no more window cleaning for me. Though I can still climb them, I’m a little less stable on ladders than I used to be. And so I pay a professional window cleaning company to get the work done.
What always took me two full days to finish, the Window Wizards do in a single morning. Plus they do a better job than I could ever do. We have about 40 big windows in our house, so the twice-a-year project isn’t cheap. But it definitely costs less than a trip to the emergency room from falling.
The difference between dirty windows and clean windows isn’t dramatic. It’s a subtle change, but easily noticeable to someone with OCD who spends a lot of time watching the world from an easy chair in the corner of the living room.
The Window Wizards are working on my windows at this very moment. When they leave after a few hours, I’ll be delighted by all the sparkly glass. Then, over the course a few months, I’ll lose some of that delight as entropy settles in, bit by bit, until it’s time for spring cleaning again.
My ongoing ketamine therapy for depression feels like an exercise in window cleaning. A steady accumulation of grit, grime, and gloom dampens my brain and obscures my view, making it hard to see the light outside. Ketamine temporarily scrapes away some of that grime, providing a small measure of relief.
But I’m learning that escape from depression is a short-lived phenomenon for me. I’m not one of those people for whom ketamine provides instant or enduring escape. Nope, I seem to be more or less stuck.
Occasionally, however, I do get glimmers of what it might be like to be content. It would be nice if those glimmers lasted as long as a good window cleaning.
We had a window cleaner come to clean all the windows at the chateau. They had not had regular cleanings, so we see the world in a whole new light, literally. We just sat and watched the guy for a bit, he was so efficient (and OK, a Frenchman, pleasant to look at). Cleansing is almost always good for the body and spirit.
I love the metaphor. Let’s go for a clearer view in mind and spirit till pollen season, at least.