This ruffed grouse made its way slowly, carefully, along the long Quonset wall, then stretched its neck out like a roadrunner and ran across the driveway and through the caragana hedge (can it be called a hedge when it’s eight feet tall?) into the flower bed. It picked its way to the end of the row and then peeked out from behind the white flower pot. It stood there, completely still, for so long that I began to wonder if it was really there anymore and went to get the binoculars. And there it was, incredibly camouflaged, keeping an eye on the dog.
Can you see it?
Not too sure what to think of this Swiffer wet-mop thing. I swept the kitchen floor carefully, but the damp-mop looked dirty when I was halfway through so I flipped the cloth and finished — there seemed to be no moisture left and I don’t see how the same cloth could be used for the rest of the house. Surely you shouldn’t need to use more than one to do the entire floor once? It’s not like this is a large house. Or am I expecting too much? Also, it left streaks on the laminate. Is that because I didn’t remove the cloth and squeeze it out properly after I dampened it? Swiffer users, please advise.
I am so NOT a housekeeper.
But was ever so pleased to know that I was walking on a clean floor, after that. Isn’t it funny how you can practically feel the difference on your fully socked-and-shoed feet! It’s almost as delicious as climbing into clean sheets. Which reminds me … there’s laundry to do. Hm. It’s too early on a Sunday morning to start lugging baskets down to the basement. Maybe later.
One of the best things about having no job is that there’s all the time in the world to do household chores; they don’t have to be squeezed in between work-for-money and making supper and keeping the dishes done. When I worked three days a week and had four off, I guarded my free time so vehemently that I wouldn’t start “big” or time-consuming household chores because I didn’t want to spend a day off doing housework. For I’ve found that once I’m scrubbing or organizing, I keep going … and there goes the day. Oh sure, you feel good at the end of it, but … it’s still a waste of a perfectly good day off, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve got better things to do, like reading and writing and walking. Which is why our windows haven’t been washed for the past three years while I had a job in town.
Time still flies by at a crazy rate, but with no weekly work schedule to adapt to, keeping the house comfortable (i.e. tidy) is a simple task that
I don’t resent having to do isn’t a burden. It’s a pleasure. There. Can you believe I just said that? I meant it, too. Even doing the dishes (in small amounts) is a pleasure. What the hell is happening to me …
Speaking of windows, I got the birdsaver for the living room window made. Now Scott has to figure out how to hang it to his satisfaction (i.e. properly, without doing damage that lets weather in). If it takes him as long to do that as it’s taken me to get the thing made, we’ll lose more birds to broken necks and I’ll be out there on a ladder, nailing the birdsaver to the upper frame of the window and never hearing the end of it.
He doesn’t believe the birdsaver is going to make a difference. I think it’s going to be the answer.