I’ve been in a rut, writing-wise. Try saying that 3 times fast. How’d you like them seashells, Sally? Anyhoo. It’s just been hard to think of what to write, although funny things happen to me all day long.
One problem is, the MOG has been home for weeks, and anytime that happens he starts getting crazy ideas about cleaning the bathrooms and covering the house in Windex. So he’ll walk through, sighing loudly and interrupting my Facebook flow, and eventually he will convince me to join him in his quest for the sanctification of our home, and so I will leave you and take up my broom, and I’ll sweep for a while, but then somebody texts me and I forget I was sweeping. Post-text, I’ll wash a few dishes, but maybe something diverting occurs and I take to the web to share my joy in being shocked by a wire under the sink or what have you, and then Pinterest happens.
Moments later, he tromps in from raking or some other manly cleaning activity, with his official work boots and paint-covered jeans, all decked out like a cowgirl’s dream, and he is unsettled by my level of activity. So I get up and fold a few towels, but then he catches Tristan eating Cheerios out of my forsaken sweeping pile, and sometimes he has to take a cup of coffee on the porch, where it is clean, to recuperate.
Chastened, I decide to clean, really clean. So I do some good work, sweeping and straightening and vacuuming. I even clean the kitchen floor, and I take a step back to enjoy one clean room. “MOM!” comes the victory cry. “LOOK AT OUR LEAF FORT IN THE SUNROOM! ON THE RUG! AND LOOK AT THIS ART WE MADE WITH PLAYDOH AND GLUE! ISN’T IT BEAUTIFUL?”
I don’t doubt that someday, I will have a clean house. I have a few plans for how that might happen. 1) Become wealthy and hire a staff. 2) that’s really my only plan.
Chime in! What are some topics you’d like me to blog about? The brain, she are tired.