Oh, lordy. It's Thursday, bedroom cleaning day. Unfortunately, today was already booked. Two orthodontic appointments and a four hour blueberry-picking picnic. But there must be the possibility of being able to do housework and have a life, surely. I washed half the sheets and put them back on the beds, vacuumed one bedroom, and dusted my room tonight after the children went to bed. A 1940s housewife would give me maybe 2 out of 10 I'm thinking. Well, at least we can all see the floor in our bedrooms tonight. Let's think glass half full here. Tomorrow I will finish vacuuming and dusting, and maybe next week I will bravely look up on top of the wardrobes to see if anything has died there.
Possibly the difference between me and that legendary 1940's housewife is that at 8 o'clock in the morning I am still wandering about drinking tea. I have been re-reading my grandmother's Pollyanna books, set before and after WWI. She was always bouncing out of bed at 6am, and accomplished wonders in her day, as well as being disgustingly cheery. Perhaps she went to bed earlier as well. Perhaps I am about to become a model citizen.
A need for rhythm, detachment, slowness.
8 hours ago