Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I used to clean like a woman possessed. On the way to a fire, chased by wolves, speed demon cleaning and what did I have to show for it? A sparkling house for five minutes and one cranky disposition.

    Why are you kids dragging your toys into the den? Can't you see I JUST CLEANED!?!

    No more. Slow and steady, music on, watching the motion of my hand. That's the way it's done now on cleaning day. What gets done gets done, what doesn't doesn't. I wish my kids were still small, still living here, watching how I clean:

    Why was I in such a hurry before? I don't remember. The reason wouldn't have been good enough even if I could. Why would I want to rush through this dreamy celebration of soap and squeaky clean surfaces? Watch my hands as they wipe and sweep and shake the dust away. Aren't they marvelous?

    And today an added bonus. I suddenly remember this is the way my mother used to clean her cooktop. Soapy rags working wonders on sticky greasy cooking spills. Memories of her fill my mind and she is here in my kitchen once more, helping me clean.

    I've missed you, Mom. Thanks for dropping by on cleaning day.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.