I didn’t oversleep this morning; I was up at 6 a.m. I had two whole hours in which to drink my coffee, feed my dogs and cats, do some leg-ups on the floor, bathe, dress and git. I could easily have accomplished all those things with time to spare… BUT NO-O-O-O!! After feeding the flock and whilst drinking my coffee, I paid my morning visit to my favorite news website, spied a link I just had to investigate, and after reading through the report, was sufficiently emboldened to leave a comment. Almost immediately another reader “liked” what I’d written. And then another — and another! When I returned home tonight, I had a total of 51 likes and 0 “dislikes.” A record for me! I was late to work today because I couldn’t stop watching that “like” counter as it clicked higher and higher. I’ll try not to let myself indulge in such vanity again, but today, I was doing a “happy dance” inside and gettng to work on time just couldn’t compare.
It’s 7:30 in the evening, and an hour ago I would have said the same thing. That’s right, I forgot about Daylight Savings Time ending today, and I think I like it better that way. It’s more gratifying to discover that extra hour at the end of the day, when you’re wishing it wasn’t already almost Monday again, than it is to sleep right through it in the morning. It works the other way around for “spring forward.”
This weekend I managed to do some much-needed housekeeping and yard work. There’s still more to do, both inside and outside, but I feel good about what I accomplished. I’ve never been a total disaster as far as housekeeping goes, but I’m not terribly fastidious about it — in fact, fastidious doesn’t apply in even the slightest degree. A little dust doesn’t bother me. And that’s a good thing, because there’s no keeping dust out of this house. What saves me from being a total disaster is the fact that I don’t like clutter, and I like order. Thank God I’m not a packrat! I’m great at throwing stuff out. The only motto I’ve ever espoused on the subject of housekeeping is, “The less you have, the less you have to clean.” What I do have sits and gathers dust until it (oh, my goodness, I just realized something about myself for the first time) is so disgusting I can’t stand it anymore. Different items have different dust tolerance ratings. The living room, where I spend most of my time, is pretty clean. The bookshelf in my bedroom is not.
I fell asleep halfway through the previous paragraph and now it’s 2 a.m. I remembered my jeans were in the dryer (actually I heard the dryer running in the laundry room when I went to use the bathroom) so I pulled them out and folded them and put them away (stacked them on the dresser). In the course of folding the jeans I remembered that I had also put my bedsheets and blanket in the wash, so I had to go back to the laundry room to put them in the dryer. They shouldn’t take long to dry, so I’ll stay up until they’re done and get my bed made up. Not because I intend to sleep there, because I don’t, but because the dog often does, and I don’t want him spending any time on the bare mattress.
I don’t know where I thought I was going with this, but I feel safe concluding that I never got there.
Well, here it is — the day after payday. Just barely, really, since it’s only 5:45 in the morning. Woke up around 4 a.m. and decided to make a run down to Wal-Mart while everyone else was still in bed. Plenty of parking right up front, no crowds inside — just lots of pallets and pallet jacks and the stocking crew. All I needed was detergent, fabric softener, kitty litter and dog food. That doesn’t sound like 140 bucks’ worth of stuff, does it?
I’ll be hanging the new curtains in the living room window where I’m parked most of the time when I’m here. The old curtains are — are you ready for this? — the same ones my sister-in-law made for me when I bought the house fifteen years ago. They’ve held up remarkably well. I paid for the fabric, and my brother’s very capable wife applied her talents and presented me with custom-fit drapes for every window in the living room (there are two singles looking out on the side yard in addition to the two front windows I just described), the kitchen, and the “third bedroom” through which I pass on my way in and out the back door. Sister-in-law accompanied me on several outings to fabric stores in a number of locations. I’d never been to one, whereas sister-in-law always knew of another store we could try after the previous one had yet again failed to reveal the answer to the simple question, “Who am I?”
Who would have thought that a task as mundane as choosing fabric for curtains would entail such profundity? I meandered aimlessly down row after row of fabric bolts, grappling with the realization that I was a thirty-eight-year-old woman whose personal environment reflected an oddly meager level of expectations. The objects with which an individual is content to be surrounded speak to what that individual believes he or she is worthy of possessing. Introversion is its own punishment, isn’t it? When I finally – finally! – found a fabric that spoke to me, I was overjoyed. But later, as I contemplated my selection, it spoke to me of this perceived defect. The fabric is very similar to unbleached muslin — just a little less coarse. Not transparent, but sheer enough to light up when sunlit. I’ve always been pleased with its appearance, but the insight still applies.
Oh, and the new curtains are a nice neutral beige color. Just a little darker and a little less sheer; I have become somewhat more self-conscious about what is visible from the outside at night and I’m hoping the new curtains will make it a little more difficult to see inside. (New curtains, new metaphor.)