The problem with my system is that it isn't actually ever done, so laundry resides on my couch in all it's glory.
I cleaned the bathrooms. Later, people had difficulty using the facilities, which I was prepared for.
Then I heard a loud tapping, tapping, on my bathroom floor.
"What are you doing?" I muttered.
"I'M HITTING MY SHOES TOGETHER SO THERE WON'T BE DIRT IN THEM!"
Yesterday I told my mother that I couldn't "in good conscience" go and visit, because I had to clean my house. Then I cleaned my house.
Today I can't go visit "in good conscience" either. I have to clean my house.
I've been trying to live in the moment, and unwrap the gift of each day. Apparently my gift for each day is housework...oh and LAUNDRY!
Recently I read a
blog regarding the act of pulling weeds. The author thinks about Dr.'s curing cancer when he pulls the roots out of the ground. Do you know what I think about?
I think, "Hey, why am I pulling weeds?" I still haven't come to grips with the fact that I don't have a gardener (or as I would call him, "the groundskeeper"). Where is my personal chef? Where is my maid?!
I swear I thought these were supposed to come with me on my trip to adulthood. It's why I never learned to cook until I married my husband. Although I was content to eat spaghetti every night, he had other culinary desires. I had to call my mom every time I boiled an egg.
So I'm supposed to be writing about unwrapping the gift of today.
I have now had three sips of coffee. I'm rallying. I think I shall go to my mother's house after all. You see, she has informed me that there are no dishes on her counter, and no laundry on her couch.
Sometimes the gift of today is getting out of your house (and coffee).
p.s. I could have taken a picture of my house this morning, but I have an image to protect.