Spring Cleaning: Misha Herwin

 

As winter comes to a close and the sun gathers in strength it seeks out every nook and cranny to illuminate the drifts of dust that have accumulated there over the darker months. Windows that on a grey January or February morning were perfectly translucent are now covered with an almost invisible film, unnoticed until a ray of sunshine sneaks into the room, sending the dust motes dancing and igniting a small flare of guilt about my lack of housekeeping.

It’s not that I don’t clean, I do, but I am probably not as thorough as I might be. A friend gave me a mug which says “Housework never killed anyone but why take the risk.” I use it most mornings for the first cup of tea of the day and it never fails to make me smile.

I don’t believe that housework is deadly, but it is deadening in its relentlessness, for no sooner has the dust been removed from one surface that it floats down again and a recently hoovered carpet is a magnet appeal for stray bits of fluff and other detritus. Look back at a carefully vacuumed floor and you will see what I mean.

To avoid this constant vigilance is necessary. For some people this is a challenge and a joy, for me it’s a waste of time. I’d rather be at my desk wrestling with the latest work in progress. However in spite of any latent sluttishness I find mess and dirt highly stressful and stress impinges on creativity. I may try to ignore the piles of notes and papers that threaten to submerge my keyboard but ultimately their presence creeps into my subconscious. I feel beleaguered and anxious. The creative flow dries up and so, more interestingly does my view of myself as a writer. It’s as if this disorder is telling me that my work is not important, whereas when my space is neat and tidy I am valuing both myself and what I do.

April in this respect is “the cruellest month.” Winter debris has to be addressed but once that is done, the mind lightens and the ideas begin to flow once more.