Like yesterday, today has been go, go, go. Mostly, I’ve been cleaning my friend’s house, which I’m taking care of this week. If I see one more dust bunny I’m going to scream. Thankfully, I’m almost done. I just have the kitchen left. Well, and the floors. The floors are dirty. But the vacuum cleaner will take care of that. Plus, the vacuum cleaner is fun to use. It’s like a magic wand, really. Now you see it, now you don’t. I always feel like Harry Potter when I vacuum. Dusty Potter.

If it hair-lips the king, I’m gonna finish cleaning tonight. It’s nine-thirty now, and I’d rather stay up late, finish cleaning, and wake up to a sparkling house than go to bed early, wake up, and set my bare feet down in all the dust I’ve wiped off the higher surfaces. Besides, I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow–errands to run and such. A couple just booked a dance lesson. And whereas I imagine I could TRY to squeeze everything in, I’d rather breathe. So again, I intend to stay up late and get-er-done.

Clearly, I’m trying to get the blog done too. I wish I had something more to talk about than cleaning house. I know it must be terribly exciting to read about, dear reader. Alas, this is my life. This and walking my friend’s dog, which amounts to watching him hike his back leg and pee on every tree stump, fire hydrant, and fence post in a three-block radius. It’s awesome. Still, it affords me my glamorous lifestyle–sleeping in til noon, reading and writing when other people are working “real jobs.” Every up has a down, and vice versa.

Okay, here’s a story.

After cleaning all day, I decided to take a shower before teaching dance this evening. I’d cleaned the shower this morning, so I thought, This is gonna be fun. Well, I was wrong. The hot water was broken. The pilot light on the water heater had gone out–I found out later. After I took A COLD SHOWER, this is. Talk about–what’s the word?–shocking. I think I stopped breathing for a moment. At first I couldn’t even get enough air to cuss. But then I kept soaping up, kept washing off.

After a minute, that cold water wasn’t so bad. Not that it was so good or even comfortable–it wasn’t–but it was bearable. When it was all said and done, I was actually invigorated, more awake. And not that I’m wanting to do it again–indeed, I marched my little butt down into the basement and relit the pilot light on the hot water heater (after I put some clothes on)–but there was this sense of I’m alive.

While cleaning yesterday, I listened to a lecture by Stephan Hoeller in which he pointed out how fundamentally unsatisfying life can be at times. Like, you fall in love, make some money, buy some nice things, go out with friends and still find yourself asking, Is this all there is? Hoeller’s push was for the spiritual life, a deeper connection to life itself. I know that word–spiritual–means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. In terms of where the word spirit comes from, it’s related to animation or movement. What is it that animates you? What is it that moves you? For me, it’s that thing that makes me want to read and write and create, that mysterious quality that invigorates, that cold-shower feeling of I’m alive.