Windows on the Mind
And, no, not computer programs...
I think I'm finding a system for doing the windows in this house.
I'm not sure why it's grabbed me in a way that some other household chores don't. I'm thinking it's the difference, before and after, of being cleaned, but that would (or ought to!) hold for other household chores. After dishes I just feel relieved, and after cleaning the cat box just plain "ugh". But I'm actually very pleased, looking out a freshly cleaned window. Now, okay, with some stripes but I'm still working on my technique.
Thing is, it's not just a single job. There's too much glass to deal with - in addition to the actual windows, there's interior glasswork, not just mirrors like in the bathroom(s) or the bedroom, but two interior doorways which are also glass, and the stairwell is partially enclosed with a textured glass (of that bamboo pattern I seemed to have seen a lot of in Ireland, but curiously, not here, except for our own house - what's that about? I wonder. Perhaps a question to add to the list for the rennovator and previous owner of this place. Wouldn't it be a hoot, if he'd sourced it from Ireland?)
My resolution is I do the windows and other glass once a month. I suspect, with the way life can go, that might work out more to once every 6 weeks. Should be good enough. I know that after each of the phases, which last about two-and-a-half hours, I'm just wiped, in a way different to having been doing aikido for instance. It's partly the weird ways of carrying a bucket half-full of water (not too full, or else I leave drops everywhere, even though that means I have to replenish the contents more often, as the water gets dirtier faster...), juggling a step ladder for the harder-to-reach panes (especially those on street-level), and a long telescoping stick with a squeegee. The stick also has a pivot for the head, to angle the squeegee - handy for letting me get the outside pane above the opening, without having to lean dangerously out the window. Figuring out where to leave items so I don't trip over them, or they don't fall. Or squeezing my body into some of the tight corners, of furniture arranged by the windows.
Day one: the exterior panes. Probably 2 or 3 changes of bucket, because they get all the street dirt, from passing traffic, the rain, etc. (This might not be so much, next time - so far, I've encountered glass we haven't cleaned since we'd moved in,... *blush* but it's also not been cleaned quite possibly for months before that; looking at the abandoned neighbors' for a bit of a comparison, I might now have, after the first really good clean, a bit of a foundation,... I hope.) Day two: the interior panes. Actually slightly less fiddly because I don't have to open the windows, which are two-door, open-in-the-middle - the first door is fine, but the second requires releasing extra catches in the frame, and one of those catches is, in every instance, at the very limit of my upward reach. It's a good stretch.) Day three: interior glass doors, textured glass panels on the stairwell, large mirrors, including my own vanity mirror.
I think that'll work. It's not so intense that I'm completely flattened, only just a little bit. And not spread over so long a period that I lose the chance to stand back and admire the entire, well-done job. And rest between cycles, concentrating on, well, yeah, the other things in the house we live in.
I think I've even managed the actual cleaning technique, though yesterday, I was working late enough in the day that the water I was trying to squeegee away was actually already drying. The cleaning is three phases - one, with a soppy sponge of vinegared water; two, with the chamois leather, getting excess water; three, the squeegee, pushing away any remaining water - pausing after each run to run the squeegee over the chamois, to get rid of excess water - which, I'm thinking, is the most likely source of streaks; there's probably others, created by my ignorance of how to avoid them.
But, still... fond reminders of the time I'd done the window-cleaning for our old place in Dublin, and afterward, when Natale from aikido asked, in a puzzled tone, if I'd cleaned the windows. When I said 'yes', she declared that their blinking could probably be seen as far as Wexford.
Still, *glancing out the window as the sun has started to wheel around and shine through*, yes, very nice. Not quite perfect on the small drops and occasional lines front, but in general, lovely, lovely light!
Thanks for stoppin'.
I think I'm finding a system for doing the windows in this house.
I'm not sure why it's grabbed me in a way that some other household chores don't. I'm thinking it's the difference, before and after, of being cleaned, but that would (or ought to!) hold for other household chores. After dishes I just feel relieved, and after cleaning the cat box just plain "ugh". But I'm actually very pleased, looking out a freshly cleaned window. Now, okay, with some stripes but I'm still working on my technique.
Thing is, it's not just a single job. There's too much glass to deal with - in addition to the actual windows, there's interior glasswork, not just mirrors like in the bathroom(s) or the bedroom, but two interior doorways which are also glass, and the stairwell is partially enclosed with a textured glass (of that bamboo pattern I seemed to have seen a lot of in Ireland, but curiously, not here, except for our own house - what's that about? I wonder. Perhaps a question to add to the list for the rennovator and previous owner of this place. Wouldn't it be a hoot, if he'd sourced it from Ireland?)
My resolution is I do the windows and other glass once a month. I suspect, with the way life can go, that might work out more to once every 6 weeks. Should be good enough. I know that after each of the phases, which last about two-and-a-half hours, I'm just wiped, in a way different to having been doing aikido for instance. It's partly the weird ways of carrying a bucket half-full of water (not too full, or else I leave drops everywhere, even though that means I have to replenish the contents more often, as the water gets dirtier faster...), juggling a step ladder for the harder-to-reach panes (especially those on street-level), and a long telescoping stick with a squeegee. The stick also has a pivot for the head, to angle the squeegee - handy for letting me get the outside pane above the opening, without having to lean dangerously out the window. Figuring out where to leave items so I don't trip over them, or they don't fall. Or squeezing my body into some of the tight corners, of furniture arranged by the windows.
Day one: the exterior panes. Probably 2 or 3 changes of bucket, because they get all the street dirt, from passing traffic, the rain, etc. (This might not be so much, next time - so far, I've encountered glass we haven't cleaned since we'd moved in,... *blush* but it's also not been cleaned quite possibly for months before that; looking at the abandoned neighbors' for a bit of a comparison, I might now have, after the first really good clean, a bit of a foundation,... I hope.) Day two: the interior panes. Actually slightly less fiddly because I don't have to open the windows, which are two-door, open-in-the-middle - the first door is fine, but the second requires releasing extra catches in the frame, and one of those catches is, in every instance, at the very limit of my upward reach. It's a good stretch.) Day three: interior glass doors, textured glass panels on the stairwell, large mirrors, including my own vanity mirror.
I think that'll work. It's not so intense that I'm completely flattened, only just a little bit. And not spread over so long a period that I lose the chance to stand back and admire the entire, well-done job. And rest between cycles, concentrating on, well, yeah, the other things in the house we live in.
I think I've even managed the actual cleaning technique, though yesterday, I was working late enough in the day that the water I was trying to squeegee away was actually already drying. The cleaning is three phases - one, with a soppy sponge of vinegared water; two, with the chamois leather, getting excess water; three, the squeegee, pushing away any remaining water - pausing after each run to run the squeegee over the chamois, to get rid of excess water - which, I'm thinking, is the most likely source of streaks; there's probably others, created by my ignorance of how to avoid them.
But, still... fond reminders of the time I'd done the window-cleaning for our old place in Dublin, and afterward, when Natale from aikido asked, in a puzzled tone, if I'd cleaned the windows. When I said 'yes', she declared that their blinking could probably be seen as far as Wexford.
Still, *glancing out the window as the sun has started to wheel around and shine through*, yes, very nice. Not quite perfect on the small drops and occasional lines front, but in general, lovely, lovely light!
Thanks for stoppin'.