Spotless

This past week went by in a whirlwind. It always seems to, whenever Lindy is in the house—although, unlike any other whirlwind I have ever encountered, she manages to clean everything in her wake rather than destroy it. I don’t know of anyone else that is actually capable of keeping a washing machine going damn near 24 hours a day for 8 days straight. She made me chuckle, when by the third day, she was walking through the house looking slightly perturbed. I asked her what was the matter, and her response was that she couldn’t find anything else to wash.

Such occurrences are the norm when Lindy graces a household. The dishwasher is always running, although I don’t really know how necessary such appliances are when she is at the helm of such duties, because all dishes are cleaned and sanitized thoroughly before even being placed in the dishwasher for their high pressure, high heat sanitization. She cleans in preparation to clean; it really is something else, something the likes of which I’ve never seen.

She bought us a Roomba (one of those robot vacuum cleaners), for Christmas, and I was so stoked—it really is one of my favorite things in our entire house. I figured that with the Roomba going, at least Lindy wouldn’t feel so obligated to vacuum the floors compulsively as well, but I was mistaken. She set the Roomba off on its little mission one morning, and I was thrilled to hear its quiet hum instead of the big vacuum’s growl… Within five minutes, both the vacuum and the Roomba were running, and I emerged from my room to check out what the commotion was all about. Lindy was actually following behind the Roomba with the big vacuum “Just in case it misses something!”

I was rather entertained, although it is painful to watch someone in the throes of their compulsions, for it seems almost as if she cleans not because she wants to but because something inside her tells her that she has to. I don’t know, maybe I’m reading more into it then there really is, but I can’t quite wrap my brain around what would make someone exclaim, “I love laundry!” and really mean it.

Aside from Lindy’s strenuous cleaning schedule, she managed to spend ungodly amounts of money on us, (once again, something that she insists on doing), and spoiled us rotten for the 8 days she graced our presence. I began to dread going inside any store with her, because she would inevitably walk out with at least a $250.00 receipt to add to her checkbook, a big smile plastered across her face, and the words, “I’m just getting you some of the things you need,” flowing from her mouth. I was unaware that all the things we needed could be found and piled into multiple shopping carts, but wonder woman Lindy proved me wrong time and time again.

My cleaning closet has never been so full. If we were forced to stay inside for the next five years straight, I think that I would have enough Clorox spray, Bleach, Toilet Bowl cleaner, and Multi-surface cleaners to disinfect my house on a daily basis with ease. My pantry is bursting at its hinges with treats and goodies, and my refrigerator is practically being held shut through the grace of some unknown force, for it is housing more fruit than the average produce stand, (the end result of me saying that I was craving a piece of fruit).

I count my blessings, I really do… I could have had a horrible mother in law, and I don’t know how I ended up with a Lindy. My dad and I were chatting about such things as I was driving home from the Tallahassee Airport after I dropped Lindy off for her flight home. He will never rub my nose in the fact that I almost threw this kind of opportunity away by marrying a monster like my ex, but he will tell me that I am incredibly lucky to have found such a good man, with such a loving family.

My father is not the most outspoken of people, and to most he seems somewhat quiet and standoffish. John admired him from the start and knew upon first meeting him that he was extremely intelligent. It seemed that there was a mutual respect from the get go of John and my relationship between him and my father, for there was never any of those uncomfortable moments usually associated with a guy meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time.

If such moments had actually existed at one point or another, they are long past now. On our last trip out to California, not so long ago, our families were all able to go out to dinner together. The end of the night brought with it one of my most cherished memories—my father had given me my hug goodnight, and was saying goodnight to everyone else. Standing a little distance away from the crowd, he looked John in the eye, shook his hand, and said “You are the best thing that has ever happened to my daughter.” His words carried clearly across the night air to my ears, and at that point in time, under the Southern California stars, I finally felt that I had begun to make good decisions in my life. I can see the relief on the faces of those that loved me and thought for so long that my life would be filled with the torturous ramifications of bad decisions past. The departure I have made from my purgatory has released those I hold near to my heart, for they are no longer holding their breath and hoping that I will survive, instead they are simply rejoicing in my happiness.