THE ANNUAL ORGY
CHALLENGE TO HUMANITY | THE CALL IDF THE COBWEB A GUILD OF SPRING-CLEANERS •THERE are people who may be termed cast al converts to the spring-cleaning cult, and it is they who are the bei.t judges of the whole philosophy and import of the frenzy. Such people —or women, to be quite Epecific —do not deal with the matter as a rite, in the manner of wholehearted zealots; for they do not adopt Method. In oth.?r words, they do not cover the furniture with dust sheets, and take all tho pictures down, as all the best authorities on household management advise; but, going into the ' sitting-room on some lady-like, en per vising business on a sunny morning, when the sap and energy are rising in all nature, one such as this " will find a cob'veb placed on high as a sign, an omen, a call. Down comes that funereal cobweb , from the wall, and, dying, • drapes itself mournfully over a picturo; down comes that picture, and is. rlusted on to the floor; down come all the pictures. Next the floor is polished, and from this humble kneeling position, the neophyte to the cult ' sees more grey emblems behind the curtains; down come the curtains to be washed; the windows are cleaned, and so on and so on. . . Embloms ol Decay That first spying of the cobweb was the moment of revelation. Cobwebs are emblems of mortality and decay, the laissez fgire attitude to life. They arouse all the antagonism of warriors who believe that life gives of its best to those who don't take things lying down. This, then, is the great truth about seasonal cleaning, vouchsafed to the latest and most humble convert —that it is symbolical and allegorical of humanity's brave efforts to keep defeat and death at bay. True, there are certain superior heretics who avow that it, is the slavish, yearly routine of conventional people —a racial custom, the following of the mob mind. But all true women, and even incidental converts, know that these poor souls are definitely eccentric, unhappy opponents of a grand elemental xirge, For it is safe to affirm that the original cave woman said to her children: "Coni€ along, throw all these smelly bones outside, and let's start all
over again 1" when the sun appeared over the grim horizon once more, and her husband was safely disposed of a-hunting. . I saw a cobweb in a porch the other day, and went through the whole satisfactory cycle. Like the Scottish knight who ncbly said: "I'll lay me dow'n and bleed awhile, And then 111 rise and fight again. . . ." I had to take intervals of sitting down to breath awhile, and during these spells 1 took reconnisuance, every time finding fresh fields wherein to battle. But I gleamed as I thought of all the boundless afternoon wherein to finish this job, and perhaps start the inside room. Being only a casual, I took a lunchtime interval and lay down to read the paper. I woke up about four o'clock, and, like all people who catch themselves out, I felt annoyed. I looked viciously at the semi-Bhining porch, and hinsed between my teeth: "There's one thing—when this placo is finished', it need hardly be touched for a month or so, and then the most indifferent mopping will do." So that's a secondary truth about Springcleaning; it's not done by the world's workers —but by gipsyish and unconventional people, who hate work so much that they do it in one fell swoop, reserving the rest of the year for gaiety and dreaming. Mrs. Beelon Shows the Way I shall be an enthusiast next year, so I spent ths rest of the afternoon reading Mrs. Ileeton on how to do the job proporly. Sho is a zealot if you like; not only does t'he advise changing curtains and beating carpets, but she says, as to a sister, "It is hardly necessary to rspeat that on this occasion every article of furniture is to be gone over. How those prosaic directions to change the curtains must work the films of memory in many who spent their childhood in colder lands; How intimate and iiecure the world seemed when the firelight flickered on the cosy red velvet curtains of winter —a fit place for dreaming; and what gay hope thero was of currying those dreams out when the chintzes and colours and cleanliness of Spring made a sort of melody within to harmonise with tho newly alert wsrld without. The whole affair, for Mis. Beeton, is so lyrical and satisfactory, that she joyfully points out that, as winter approaches the process of scouring and cleaning is again necessary, and must be gone through, beginning at the top, and going through the house, down to tho kitchens. "When I read this extraordinary proposal, I found myself propounding an Alice-in-Wonderland proportion sum: "If I clean half-a-porch in a half-hearted manner, and sleep for half a day; for how long shall I sleep if I clean the whole house wholeheartedly. Both Spring and Autumn?" The answer, I take it, is, that not only is sleep assured at night for the whole summer; but that the accumulated reaction from work during the whole year culminated by the autumn cleaning, will assure me the right and the inclination to behave like a dormouse during the stormy winter—a thing that I have always longed to do! On the one-woman one-job principle I claim this right on behalf of the Guild of Ardent Spring'Clleaners, with the further provision, that sundry heretical drones be appointduring tho period to administer ■ i change library books, HtlWkMiSiliSiSw times as we choose to
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New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22540, 3 October 1936, Page 6 (Supplement)
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946THE ANNUAL ORGY New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22540, 3 October 1936, Page 6 (Supplement)
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