I mentioned to a friend that I’d timed myself tidying the house and that it had taken close to three hours – “oh yes” she said “well, it does, doesn’t it?” – and as I wandered home I thought to myself that it bloody well shouldn’t and I don’t wanna.
I want to read a book in the sunshine (may it appear).
I want to walk through the entire house and down to the bottom of the garden in my bare feet without a second thought.
I want to effortlessly put my house in order.
Winning the lottery and magical fairies would be nice too. *grin*
The thing is that my friend is tidier than me and likes everything to be just so; I used to amuse myself by shifting items in her room and watch her flutter around moving items without conscious thought. I can understand her taking the time to put everything away neatly and not simply hiding clutter out of sight, like I tend to do to get it looking tidy on the surface.
Basically I’m pretty sure that her level of tidy far surpasses mine.
I’ve made a real effort this week to keep the house looking like those after photos I took Tuesday. I can’t congratulate myself or pat myself on the back. I need to keep momentum doing these basic, boring, never ending tasks everyday or the endless cycle of mess and tidy and mess and tidy will stop me from tackling the larger jobs and forever eat into my reading in the sunshine with bare feet, having tea with fairies time.