I was thinking of those film clips of Germany’s invasion of Poland at the start of WWII. The rampage of men, tanks and cannons over the Polish countryside looked a lot like the way Carol was attacking the mildew on our porch roof. It was a blitzkrieg of cleaning, with Tilex and mops and brooms scouring the porch landscape like it was the Poznan forest being overrun by German panzers. I did understand the dynamic of Carol’s frenzy of activity. Just as the Germans were claiming the need for or “living space” as their destiny, Carol was asserting her own destiny, or what the Germans might call Bewegendsraum or “moving around space.” Carol had reached her limit of being hemmed in by coronavirus the way the Germans felt they had been hemmed in by the Treaty of Versailles, and like the Wehrmacht in Poland, she took the same scorched earth approach to that porch mildew, simply for the sake of feeling out and about.

“I hadn’t even known we had mildew on the porch until Carol pointed it out to me – over and over again these past couple of years in the vain hope I’d do something about it.”

I, in the meantime, remained on the couch dithering like Chamberlain. Since I never look up at anything (which is why I tend to miss the towers and campaniles of Europe until Carol nudges my arm) I hadn’t even known we had mildew on the porch until Carol pointed it out to me – over and over again these past couple of years in the vain hope I’d do something about it. I did: I don’t look up, remember?

Carol didn’t stop with the mildew, just like Germany didn’t stop with Poland. Next came the siding along the porch, and then the kitchen windows. I beat feet for the bathroom and a shower, which was as feckless a defense as the French Maginot Line. By the time I returned to the couch, the porch was firmly under the control of the Vichy government. The war appeared lost, and I was genuinely afraid other much delayed spring cleaning projects would begin to unravel like the German-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact. I knew that remaining in my isolationist America First posture would not be a long term solution for world peace, I meekly offered my land lease services,  which were immediately deemed inadequate, just as they had been when offered to Churchill.

The only avenue out to me was Italy’s: surrender. I prepared an aperitivo and some crackers and dip and presented the peace offerings on the deck, where they were graciously received.

I have no idea why I chose a world war analogy to describe Carol abruptly undertaking a notable spring cleaning project. Is it because our hunkering down reminds me of the London Blitz, with the population isolating in the Underground as the Nazi bombs rained down on the city? Is it because there are suddenly millions with no means of income and thousands of civilian casualties continue to mount?

One thing I do know. All those people hunkered down in the Underground who thought, in spite of the reality at the time, they would survive and eventually triumph in the war had someone like Carol hunkered down next to them.