It’s Tuesday.
And according to my long
overlooked household management schedule, I should be [gleefully] skipping about cleaning
toilets today.
In all seriousness, I do not wake
up first thing in the morning with cleaning anything on my mind. Truth be told, it takes me until about ten in
the morning before my neurons are actively firing.
In reality, I know that there is a population of people [somewhere out there] who are driven to organize and clean and straighten and clean some more.
In reality, I know that there is a population of people [somewhere out there] who are driven to organize and clean and straighten and clean some more.
You won't find me among them.
It’s not that I don’t want shiny
clean porcelain bowls gleaming with happiness waiting to greet me and my family upon
entering the water closet, it’s just that there are so many other fanciful things
that capture and need my full attention [all. day. long.].
I can kill a day picking up
sticks and attending to the burn barrel, or looking for bird nests in the woods, checking and re-checking the rain gauge, staring out the window, looking for all the missing socks that the washer
sucked away into the alternative sock universe, moving papers from corner to corner on my
desk, and supervising Facebook (an all too important responsibility).
Then there's pondering, counting fence posts, touching all the barbs on the barbed-wired fencing, chasing after chickens, lOOking for eggs in the nesting boxes, running from the geese, talking to my lamb, Buttermilk, making to-do lists, checking email, making a grocery list, surfing Pinterest, planning projects, counting the [dust-covered] books on the bookshelves, surfing YouTube for 70’s and 80’s music videos, scribbling lists of topics to write about, sorting gem clips, watching and waiting for the mail lady, and practicing my signature.
It's an absolute must that someone aggravate our house cat, Whiskey, while listing potential names for my "some day" grandchildren, studying the calendar, checking email [again], searching online for missing ancestors, plucking my eyebrows, weighing myself, analyzing the latest beaver dam construction at the creek, sweeping the front porch (this counts as cleaning, yes?), checking the weather online, throwing my dirty laundry down the basement stairs, tightening my eyeglasses, making an exercise plan, thinking about dinner (emphasis on thinking), planning next year's Christmas menu...
Oh look! It’s almost dark…
Then there's pondering, counting fence posts, touching all the barbs on the barbed-wired fencing, chasing after chickens, lOOking for eggs in the nesting boxes, running from the geese, talking to my lamb, Buttermilk, making to-do lists, checking email, making a grocery list, surfing Pinterest, planning projects, counting the [dust-covered] books on the bookshelves, surfing YouTube for 70’s and 80’s music videos, scribbling lists of topics to write about, sorting gem clips, watching and waiting for the mail lady, and practicing my signature.
It's an absolute must that someone aggravate our house cat, Whiskey, while listing potential names for my "some day" grandchildren, studying the calendar, checking email [again], searching online for missing ancestors, plucking my eyebrows, weighing myself, analyzing the latest beaver dam construction at the creek, sweeping the front porch (this counts as cleaning, yes?), checking the weather online, throwing my dirty laundry down the basement stairs, tightening my eyeglasses, making an exercise plan, thinking about dinner (emphasis on thinking), planning next year's Christmas menu...
Oh look! It’s almost dark…
Next Tuesday will be here before I know it.
HKJ
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