I never washed the house last year. I washed it on Saturday.
I wasn’t planning to, but after I planted the flowers and did some weeding, I used the hose to water the flowers. And then I thought, “Well, the house needs to be washed, I should wash it.” So I changed nozzles to the one with the hard spray, and I began.
I started at the back of the house, directing the strong stream of water as high as it would reach. Then swaying the hose back and forth, left to right, right to left, down the side of the house. The water was a light brown, carrying away the dust collected over the years. When I got to the basement windowsill, I just held the hose in place, allowing time for the water to turn from brown to clear, allowing the time for all the dust and dirt to wash away.
And I continued this process around the back, and up the sides. The stoop for the front door needed a lot of attention, and it felt so refreshing to let that water spray. And when the angle of the hose sprayed water back towards me, I just stood in place and let it hit me. I accepted it.
I was feeling like I was making such progress with washing the house and just when I was getting to the edge of the garage, ready to turn around the corner to wash the front of the garage door – my hose yanked me back. I looked behind me and my hose was stretched tight from the tap at the back of the house, and I didn’t have enough hose to reach around and finish washing the garage.
It was hard to accept that even though I was so close to finish washing the house, and I wanted to, there was something was holding me back. So I took a moment, looking at the house, had a sigh, and walked back to the tap to turn the water off. I can see the end of the house that needs washing, and I want to wash it. I just need a longer hose.
And then I will wash the rest of the house, standing and letting the water hit against it…until the water runs clear.