a messy house & a kitchen garden

I'm still sick (or sick again . . . honestly, I'm not sure which . . . and maybe it's allergies this time), and moving at a snail's pace around here. I keep expecting to go crazy, but I haven't.  Somehow, it's okay. So many folks are hacking and coughing and sniffling right now, bless 'em.  Nothing hurts, and I've somehow come to peace with my messy house and lack of energy, and just figure I'll get to it all eventually.

Take the living room, for instance.  The red bowl and stack of books that usually adorn the middle of the coffee table have been pushed aside. Right now, it is adorned with three percussion shakers made of toilet paper tubes, filled with navy beans and decorated with scrapbook paper; an empty Kleenex box (boutique size); a stuffed Hello Kitty dressed as a bunny; a piece of Claire's artwork; a Mickey Mouse pen; a SweetTarts wrapper and a Hershey's kiss wrapper; a Highlights magazine; a coaster with nothing on it; a small glass pebble; a green paperclip; and a plastic hairgripper I wear when I'm just hanging around the house or out in the garden. 

There is a pile of unfolded laundry in one of the brown club chairs, and some slippers peeking out from the other.  It's laundry I rewashed because it mildewed in the washer.

My favorite blankie (my grandma made it for me) is on the sofa, and the pillows are piled up for leaning on.  The slipcover has dirt (from our garden feet) and dog hair on it.  The bench holds Claire's backpack, an empty Whole Foods bag, an Ann Taylor shopping bag (full of Claire's best friend's party goodies from the birthday tea party last month -- she was sick and couldn't come -- which I still haven't managed to get to her) a pile of mail, and a stray mylar Happy Birthday balloon.

If you want to walk from the front door to the dining room, you have to go around a pop-up tent.

I vacuumed and dusted yesterday, but the windows are filthy, and the wood floors need a cleaning some time soon.  The carpet still has a stain from Claire's birthday party, when some bright blue icing fell on the floor, plop.

The whole house is like this. I washed our sheets today, but they're in the dryer and I'm too tired to put them on the bed right now.  Claire has seventeen million pairs of shoes on her bedroom floor.  The kitchen floor needs mopping, and the paperwork counter is covered.  The sink is gross. The trash is overflowing in the small bathroom, and there are crumbs of cat litter next to it. 

But we (Claire had a teacher in-service day and was home from school) did manage, this afternoon, to pull the red adirondack chairs out of the garage and hose them off and de-spider them, and plant a few things in the little kitchen garden at the top of the driveway.  And then we sat in the chairs and did nothing except make the aforementioned percussion shakers, and feel happy about the nice weather. I hope the birds will like the navy beans we spilled.

 

Eventually it will truly be spring and then summer, and eventually we'll all (I mean you all, too) be over the colds and coughs, and eventually my house will get cleaned.  In the summer, if the kitchen garden survives, we'll have geraniums and marigolds to look at, and sage, basil, tomatoes, green peppers, and strawberries to enjoy.  (We'll plant some more stuff later.)

In the meantime, life is too short to freak out about the Chapstick, garden seed packets, hairbrush, half-drunk glass of water, random washcloth, and black Magic Marker on the dining room table. 

:)