I know the seasons are changing because the angle of the sun is different and is suddenly illuminating areas of the house that have been all but forgotten during the winter darkness.
Spring cleaning takes hold of me with unpredictable and non-negotiable urgency. There are things that I had until yesterday been perfectly content to look over, like the spackle of unidentifiable liquid on the refrigerator handle and the fine layer of fur on the bathroom floor, but today we have reached critical mass. Auden brought forth a dust bunny from behind the bedroom door that not only had fangs but was also rabid. Note to self: schedule routine tetanus shot.
So this morning I attacked the most offensive areas: I realized that the cabinets in the pantry, whose charming original brass fixtures are relievedly not painted over, are not in fact supposed to be speckled. They are just spectacularly dirty. Ditto the glass in the front door. While I admit the diffuse light that came through the film of grime was sort of romantic, it is decidedly better to be able to see out the window. There are robins and other spring-like things out there.
I also sorted through the detritus atop our dresser. Stuff just accumulates there... spit clothes, books, earrings, toys, shoes, small knives. Incidentally, have you ever found yourself walking around the house with a bulb syringe, a spatula, a book, a dirty diaper, and a pair of sunglasses? You fully intend to put them all in their rightful places, but then something happens and they end up in a different but equally random places? (See also: You Know You're a Parent When You Catch Yourself Picking Crumbs Out of Your Child's Neck and Absentmindedly Eating Them.)
Well. I was properly seized by the tidy bug, and now there is a semblance of order round the house.
Now if only the weather would cooperate.