I spent the day washing windows. I know that I can well afford to hire someone to do this job, but I actually sort of like doing it. There's something fairly zen about wiping the glass, and rather satisfying about washing all the dirt and ash away, though I'll admit I don't want to do it more than once a year, and right now, my arm feels like it's going to fall off.
Washing the glass inside is another matter. There are places in my house that I don't visit often, some of which I evidently don't visit often enough. My house is small, so there isn't much excuse there.
I have two sets of glassed-in cabinets. One is a china cabinet and sits in the dining room, while the other is built in to the kitchen. Both contain various odds and ends, mostly knick knacks that have been given to me over the years, as well as some small items I've inherited from various family members, largely worthless but their for familial value. I don't really collect things, though occasionally I'll pick up a small remembrance when I'm traveling, but only if it's unusual and not something that I can get at home.
I decided that as long as I was cleaning glass today, it wouldn't hurt to do the cabinets, particularly since I couldn't remember the last time I'd washed the glass shelving in the cabinets in the kitchen.
Both sets of cabinets have lights, and if I'm going to use the lights, obviously, I don't want dusty streaky glass. When I turned on the lights in the cabinets in the kitchen, I noticed that one of the halogen pucks had dropped out of the ceiling, probably when the earthquake hit over the summer, so I climbed up on a ladder to put it back into place, resting my hand on the lower wooden part of the cabinet for support.
I should have actually looked before I rested. I felt a dry crunch under my thumb and recoiled, disgusted. The sere corpse of a large spider lay where my fingers had been nano seconds before. It had obviously lived well and died of old age, based on all the little partially consumed spiders lying around the bottom of the cabinet.
"EWWWW!" I hollered in disgust, and even after I disposed of the bodies and washed my hands, I could still feel the nasty crunch as my thumb landed on the spider.
I have no idea how said arachnid got into that cabinet--Milton is a mighty spider hunter and usually only leaves legs as evidence of his late night snacks--but I can tell you that I'll at least be opening the doors to check inside a little more frequently.
Go listen to some music: "I Can See Clearly Now" By Johnny Nash from the album Radio Hits of the '70s. C'mon, you knew it was going to be about windows...