This article was inspired by a random Instagram post I shared a few weeks ago. It started with a necessary household project which quickly became an obsession that automatically morphed into some well-needed therapeutic relief. Aww, I found Zen in my own backyard…via a power washer!
I innocently posted a picture of my shiny, brand new, lime green, compact power washer which, by the way, was worth every economical penny I spent. I captioned the post “Power Washing Like a Mother” and was quickly inundated with supportive comments, conspiratorial chuckles, and practical questions, like, “Where did you buy that?” As I diligently and methodically worked the magic of the power washer around the deck, I simultaneously began drafting this article in my head.
In the early days of spring, when it was still too chilly to plant flowers or get the chaise lounges out of the shed, I noticed the grime, grit, and moss, well, everywhere. Like any savvy Main Line mom, I obtained a quote from a reputable company but quickly decided I could do the job myself. A friend told me about a power washer she purchased on Amazon (where else?) a few years ago, so I decided to give it a whirl. Literally.
My sons helped with the very minor assembly. Instantaneously, my older son commented on the therapeutic nature of power washing, the ease and satisfaction with which one could simultaneously complete a task while dissolving the tension of the day’s troubles. It was the perfect combination.
Soon we were taking turns because it was so much darn fun! Back and forth, working diligently, feeling instant gratification as I washed that grime right out of the grout.
Overnight, I became addicted. I could not wait to get outside every day, to feel the power of the power washer in my hands, in my control. The whirring noise of the machine became soothing as I daydreamed about nothing but the task at hand, easily whiling away an hour here and there throughout my day.
The bonus of witnessing the fruits of my labor was extremely satisfying. Grit be gone along with my angst!
I started looking for more outdoor areas to power wash so I could extend my outdoor project. Flagstone walkway? It is a bit slimy. Outdoor furniture? I see some lichen attached to the underside. Garage doors? Eww yuck, and heck yes! If the hose could reach, I could go the distance!
I could not see a downside to my new hobby. I was outside, I was working, I was burning calories…and the therapy was free. It was a cleansing of the soul like I never experienced.
Even more importantly, it was empowering. Yes, pun intended, but I was becoming empowered through my power washing experience. It turned into something symbolic in my life, for the phase in which I am now: newly divorced, single woman, getting it done on my own. I am woman, hear me roar, and all that good ‘70s stuff.
I have the power. And it feels good.
I did hear through the grapevine, however, that another mother from the neighborhood became so obsessed with her own power washing that her husband had to take the power washer away from her. Evidently, she and her power washer were starting to remove the siding from the house…
Caution: Read the instructions before using as there are different nozzles for varying surfaces, but then go outside and Power Wash Like a Mother! You have my permission.