Before I can embark on the “new” beginning that September traditionally brings, I have to put my house in order.
To me this can only mean one thing:
Never mind the fact that we just got back from the cottage and there is mess to clean up. Bathroom to be cleaned. Laundry to be folded. Groceries to be purchased. Children to be entertained. Lunch/dinner/snacks to be prepared. Shower to be taken…tomatos to be harvested…
No. I have to move the livingroom around.
I can’t concentrate on the other mundane tasks. Next week, when the kids are out of the house for a few precious hours most mornings, I want to dedicate my alone-time to things that do not require physical activity, family tending, or wasting time. I want to sit and drink coffee and re-launch my writing career.
But for that I need order. And order means furniture in places that make more sense than they do in the current locations.
This is me. This is what I do. So now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to sweep up newly discovered dust bunnies.
* * *
Hours later: I have not moved it back. I like it! This is so not like me…