I am at the end of home visits. (Well, technically there is one left, but the mom cancelled and didn’t reschedule, so I consider my obligation fulfilled.) It is a long process, but a valuable one. It’s nice to make the connection with new children and families, and the children I’ve already been teaching are excited to have me come over. (Except one boy. He could not contain his excitement/weirded-out-ness of actually having me in his house, so he jumped around and hid behind his mom, never uttering a word.)
All these homes I’ve visited have been so nice. They are clean. They are homey. Even the slightly cluttered ones have a welcoming feel to them that is just lovely. The moms say to me, “Sorry it’s a little messy” and I guffaw and say, “Come to my house. It will make you feel much better.”
I’m home now. I am sitting at a counter filled with papers, pens, a toy horse, a bottle of vanilla extract, my keys, and a lot of unidentifiable debris – and that’s just what’s in arm’s reach. Over on the counter is a bag of potatoes gifted to me by a farming family, a middling size assortment of dirty dishes and three bananas slumping to their death. I don’t dare turn around to look at the disaster that is the dining room. The cats have knocked over a lot of stuff.
My house is not fancy. I have been in some very, very, very beautiful homes the past few days. They are straight-out-of-a-catalog gorgeous. Long ago, Young Me would have been inspired to go my own home and make it more beautiful. But Old Me is content with the messy, non-beautiful but perfectly functional house.
Old Me just wants to take her shoes off and go to bed.
I’m with you, Old Me, but we should really do a load of laundry first.
Peggy says
My house is crazy messy right now. I seem to have wedding stuff in every room (my son Matt is getting married at the end of this month). I was thinking about getting a high powered hose & just blowing all the stuff out the back door when I’m finished.
Always remember, I’m older…..and tired-er.
Brad says
A lot of the stuff that ends up lying around my house is just trash. It’s something that came in the mail that I thought I’d respond to, but then I miss the deadline. Or it’s some half-finished project that I should just throw away. Or it’s a wrapper from something that I set to the side and forgot about. Maybe I should get an incinerator or something. If throwing things away was more fun, maybe I’d do it more often…
Brad says
Or maybe a high powered hose. Good idea, Peggy!