We shampooed our carpets today. It was a big deal. It made me feel efficient and purposeful. I hired the machine online, collected it from the supermarket as soon as its doors opened, worked with my wife to move the furniture and master the machine’s instructions. Then I guided the thing back and forth across the wall-to-wall carpet as if I were mowing a lawn.

Afterwards, the carpets looked great and we felt we’d achieved something.

Until I asked myself why this is the first time, in the six years since we returned to the UK, that we’ve done this?

For me, cleaning is like going to the gym. I can see it’s necessary and I feel better when it’s over but I always need to push myself to do it.

To help push myself, I went looking for a poem on the joys of cleaning. I couldn’t find one, or at least, I couldn’t find one that didn’t sound like it was written by a soap company’s ad agency. 

I did find a poem by Rose Milligan that made me smile. It’s called ‘Dust If You Must‘. I’d love to be able to convince myself that the explanation for my erratic and infrequent encounters with cleaning is that I’ve embraced the spirit of this poem. I’m fairly sure the real reason is my own lack of discipline. 

Anyway, as I wait for our carpets to dry, I thought I’d share Rose Milligan’s poem with you. I hope it makes you smile.