A Big Mess
On Tuesday, I mopped the floor.
Aaaah — the once-a-month psycho gotta-keep-my-floor-clean mom. Nobody likes her. She doesn’t like herself. But she loves that clean floor feeling — no need to peel up toes from sticky spots or dust crumbs off heels. Clean. And when she waits a month to do it, mopping the stick and grime off the floor is a huge job. A result worthy of enjoyment — for much longer than a few minutes. So she nags and whines and complains.
To read the rest of this post, click here to read my guest post on 5 Minutes for Faith.
On Wednesday, I diligently picked up crumbs– bits of nectarine muffin, corn flakes, pieces of granola. Exclaiming over and over again as they ate — “be careful!” “Lean over the table!” “Don’t make a mess!”
Aaaah — the once-a-month psycho gotta-keep-my-floor-clean mom. Nobody likes her. She doesn’t like herself. But she loves that clean floor feeling — no need to peel up toes from sticky spots or dust crumbs off heels. Clean. And when she waits a month to do it, mopping the stick and grime off the floor is a huge job. A result worthy of enjoyment — for much longer than a few minutes. So she nags and whines and complains.
To read the rest of this post, click here to read my guest post on 5 Minutes for Faith.