I am surveying the contents. It’s 8:15 A.M. and I’m on my fifth cup of coffee as I try to decide which chore to complete first.
Washer running, computer on, frig door open—getting the creamer. Guess I’ll tackle this as I’m already in here (in my pj tops and yoga pants, pure glamour). Why do we save little dabs of stuff? Do we think we’ll ever eat those–or do we think we’ll run out of food? What about those expiration dates? Do you think they’re serious about it? And, while we’re here—why can’t men ever move stuff when they’re looking for something in the frig? I see four jars of pickles, all half empty, all the same kind!
This is my first day off in weeks….where do I begin (strains of Romeo and Juliet—time warp) Sorry, I drifted. As I was saying, where to begin? The dust bunnies in every corner? The giant spider lurking in the bathroom? The bag of grass seed on the garage steps that I was going to plant in June? Or the huge stacks of magazines and articles on the coffee tables beneath the blanket of dust and yes—holy cow–delicate cobwebs!
I’m failing at trying to do it all, but I’m mellowing. You CAN’T do it all. It’s impossible. And , for those of you who work outside the home and have a family and home to tend , I bow to you—for your amazing courage and strength! I, fortunately, am married to a patient, sweet man who is not bothered by my casual housekeeping. (I used to be a “Martha”, but no more.) My children are out on their own. It’s just the two of us…its good.
So I’m learning to live with crumbs and dust bunnies. It’s usually dark when we get home anyway, so we really don’t see it. As I walk up the stairs this sunny morning to apply a lot of moisturizer (hoping it’s like spackle), I’m happy to see the sunbeams dancing on the steps–highlighting the layer of dust. It’s okay…I may not have it all, but I have more than enough. We are content.
Pace yourself. Take time. There is so little of it. Happily, Bren