Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Laundry Was Done...
It was about ten thirty this morning, when I paused to recognize a momentous occurrence. All of the washed and dried clothing was folded, put on hangers and put away. If I over analyze this occurrence I will certainly blow it apart and destroy its subtle beauty: Not all dirty clothes were washed, and some clothes are even still in packed boxes. It is not perfection that I dream of. It is not sterile, detailed, holy domestic Marthaness that I aspire to achieve. No. No, I was honoring a moment, a real moment of genuine success. Minor, perhaps, but it was mine, and I loved it. No more clothes falling off the sofa and heaped on the coffee table!
High Five!
w00ts!
I pwned.
Moving on.
I pruned the roses. We have nine rose bushes, and they are beautiful. They make big roses. Truthfully, they make more roses than I am worthy of... than I am capable of managing, even appreciating. I think I get intimidated, then overwhelmed, and then slightly resentful... absurd, I know.
Settle down, you big and fragrant, abundant blooms. I cannot cut you and put you in vases, change the water frequently, and sweep up your falling petals. Quit being so prolific and alluring, so seductive that I feel remiss when I do not stop to inhale your sweet essence. Please stop reminding me that you need feeding, and extra long drinks of dihydrogen monoxide.
It feels like such a major accomplishment: I pruned the roses. I cut some and filled about four vases. I brought a jar of roses to our neighbors. I even corralled all the trimmings in to the correct receptacle.
So well done.
So admirable.
So futile.
Yeah, I am in that kind of mood. Recognizing all that needs to be done, should be done, wants to be done, begs to be done, and what never gets done.
Meh.
Joe. Joe, how do you do it?
You are fit, handsome.
You've never tried waxing your brows, or floors.
You don't blog, or Twitter, or text, and yet you seem well adjusted, and well enough connected to have lived long and contentedly.
What is your filing system?
How do you organize your car?
Have you resigned yourself to housework, forgoing sewing, cooking, projects, and parties?
Do you get outside help?
Would you have a friend over, even if your bed were unmade, or if your sink was piled up with several days worth of dirty cups, pots, and forks?
If you had four children would you resent the homework hours, the paperwork?
Would you ache for summer break to begin, so you could watch movies, sleep in, and stay all day at the beach?
Oh, Joe.
Help me Joe.
The laundry success was so fleeting, so small. Now there are more clothes that need hanging, and more spinning in the suds. The boys cannot go to the movies, because they have homework. Geoff is working on those twenty-three inch deep garden beds, and I think he thinks I do not appreciate him, but I do. Maria needs a bath. The cats need shots. Everything needs vacuuming or scrubbing. I need courage, encouragement, and perhaps a dose of ignorance... something to convince me that of course things will get done, and be okay.
Tell me Your woes and challenges... then we can laugh and cry together. Nothing seems as bad, when you can laugh and cry with someone.
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9 comments:
I too get excited when the washing gets done, dried and put away. Alas it does not last long. Its monday morning here and the laundry basket is full again, so the cycle begins once more.
I know my house is never spotless, but its lived in and has people that love one another in it. And always drop ins are welcome, so it must be a home.
I hear you. Try to sell your house, and suddenly everything is clean all the time!
Natalie dear, I've been getting caught up on your posts and they have been FABULOUS! The bunny, the sweet kittyfur. The neverending laundry! The sweeeet new chickies! The darling pictures from way-past posts! Those gorgeous, gorgeous roses! Oh my goodness! So much to see, so much to read! I'm not getting this far behind again...you make me laugh and smile.
Well, let's see. There are only two of us in our house (not counting four cats) so you would think it would be easy to keep up with things. But we always have piles of paper; my husband opens the mail and the sofa is covered with it; newspapers are everywhere; magazines I mean to read and clip recipes from. Also, the fridge is ongoing woe. Our kitchen space allowed only a small one, and I like to cook, so it is always overflowing with ingredients (you know... trying new recipes always requires a couple new items, then the rest is in there forever). Then there are four kitty litter boxes that constantly need cleaning, an overflowing closet (I'm always waiting to lose weight), and the bottomless basement. So, there! I have shared my woes with you. Thanks for the opportunity!
I am all about doses of ignorance! If only I had the sense to know where to get more! Hey...wait...
That bunny sure is cute! And the roses are lovely! You are so blessed Natalie!
Hey! Tomorrow I plan to mention Chicken Blog and your give-away! Hope that is ok.
I think Ken and I have come back around to the conclusion, again, that we can either live our lives or clean up our house and yard, but not both. So we're resigned to live in a perpetual state of chaos, with to-do lists always longer than what can or will get done. We don't give up completely, we just don't beat ourselves up over the fact that the war is never won -- and we count on Dean's looking back on his childhood as a time with his parents who were willing to go for a walk or play a family game after dinner and let the dirty dishes pile a little higher....
It's been awhile since I've been to your blog - Maria has grown so.
Hopped over from Blog of Note (or whatever it's called), and started browsing. This one struck a chord--I usually feel like a fake adult because I can't keep my house cleaned, my yard trimmed, the house maintained. I don't even have kids, just a dog--with a long, black, double coat. And cream carpets. Brilliant.
I am very, very proud of myself this year for having the garden under "control." We planted things on time (mostly). I've kept it weeded (mostly). Even sprayed for cabbage moths (once). Even on days when I come home from Job 1, and know I really should get started on Job 2, I wander out to pick peas and admire my sturdy, from-seed tomato plants. At least they look as they're supposed to!
And then I go back into my paper-strewn office, past the clumps of black dog hair and piles of dirty dishes, and continue to write to-do lists which will never be finished!
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