It’s funny what echoes

Pretty clean

For the last few years Randy has been responsible for keeping the kitchen clean - probably since Covid because we were both home and I was working more hours than he was. And then when he had the seizure he had to quit working and he appreciated how many hours I put in at my job so he kept on top of it. Plus, he knew if the the kitchen was dirty I wouldn’t cook. He was a meticulous person in almost all ways - he didn’t leave things half done or do a mediocre job. I, on the other hand, can be a little half-assed. I call much of my housekeeping “hitting the high spots” which is basically, I don’t care enough to make everything shiny clean because it’s just going to get dirty again anyway. Sort of a teenager view of housework.

When Randy would come home from a hospital stay with pneumonia, he would come in the house and go directly to the kitchen. He would survey the area and say, “I can’t believe it can get this way in just one week.” And then he would start scrubbing the sink. I would laugh and ask him, “How much do you love me?” and he would hug me and say, “More than anything.” But then he would go back to scrubbing the sink. Seriously.

So yesterday when I realized that the sink was getting pretty dirty I got out the Barkeeper’s Friend (never use harsh cleansers on your sink) and tried to do a Randy-type job on it. And the whole time I thought about all the times he had cleaned it for me so I never had to do it myself. I can’t believe he’s gone.