I’ve been feeling claustrophobic lately. It seems like there are piles of things on every available surface in our home. Cupboards are stacked high with objects buried in the back. I have to move things to move things to get to the thing I want to move. And then put it all back.
It’s driving me nuts.
While on a cleaning tangent this weekend, I asked the girls to clean their room. They played the typical ‘shove everything under the bed’ game that at 9 and 13 they’re entirely too old to play–but frankly I was too tired to care. At least you can walk across the floor without impaling yourself on an earring! I was temporarily appeased until I saw it.
The dresser.
I usually have the girls put their own clothes away, but for whatever reason I decided to do it myself. With an armload of Em’s freshly folded shirts, I opened the drawer to a wadded up, shoved together disaster. Clean, too-wrinkled-to-wear items mating with a can’t-show-Mom-I-spilled-food-coloring shirt and a favorite pair of jeans that hadn’t seen the washing machine in weeks. Exasperated, I sputtered at my 9 year old daughter,
“WHY do I fold your clothes?!”
In complete sincerity she answered quietly, “I honestly don’t know.”
Today's Musings 