there are days when you get trapped by your stuff.
BC told me today that i’ve been neglecting my blog. (does she read it now?) one of the main reasons i haven’t been writing as much is because i’ve become a facebook junkie of this lovely cage house that needs a bit of work.
don’t get me wrong. i love my home. i’m grateful for my home and the fact that i can be here every day in it. i’m proud of my home. and while i am perhaps the worst housekeeper in the entire universe, i want to do whatever i can to keep it a happy place. a huge portion of my life in the home involves dealing with the kids. in fact, given the choice of the house or the kids, i always err on the side of the kids. the kids can’t usually wait; dirty dishes often can.
so my house generally looks like the land that time forgot. and not in a charming way, either.
but this year, i need to do a variety of things, all of which require money and time. i need to get some new windows. i need to replace the ever-peeling bathroom vanity that fell victim to one too many happy bathtub splashes. i need to look into getting a new air conditioner. i must deal with the basement-formerly-known-as-the-carpeted-room-before-the-hot-water-heater-decided-to-give-up-the-ghost-plus-a couple-gallons-of-water. i need to secretly find new homes for the kids’ old toys. (BC, if you’re reading this: not yours, of course. wink, wink.)
but seriously, there’s too much to do and only so many hours in the day.
imagine if you worked in an office and you also lived there as well. your work would be facing you 24/7. that’s sort of what it’s like to work at home. oh sure, people say to me, if i didn’t have to work, my house would always be clean and i’ll get all sorts of things done.
that’s a laugh.
people who work only think of their home time the way they understand it to be: weekends or maybe a vacation day or so where they have a plan to get. something. accomplished.
but try getting things accomplished when there are tasks staring you down while the phone rings and the recycling needs to get out before the truck comes and guess what — you’ve a sick kid at school can you come pick him up? life happens, evidently.
so if you come to my house, always know that it’s a disaster. but you’re always welcome in it.