Sunday, June 17, 2012


 Yesterday was a day where I found my state of childlessness to be at an advantage. I did not a lick of anything important.

Having spent the previous evening out at the picture show, I went to bed  after midnight, woefully much later than my usual hour. If I were to tell you when I actually go to bed you might think me an old fuddy-duddy so I will spare you the hour.

To add to my charm, I woke up late. Much later than I usually wake up and I find that while it is nice to sleep in, waking up late throws me off kilter for the rest of the day. And so I did nothing. I did nothing while the mister strapped on his backpack vacuum and whizzed around the tiny casa taking care of the tiny fabric scraps on the floor, crumbs in the sofa and dust on all the odds and ends I have oh-so-artfully displayed about the place. After he vacuumed more than he should have, he cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed the tub and took care of the kitchen including mopping the black and white checkered floor that spills across the kitchen, dining nook and hallway. He cleaned his a-go-go arse off and I did nothing.
Well, that is not entirely true, I read a book. A very good book. I read a book while the mister cleaned. Ugh, that reads awful. Truth be told, I am not the best housekeeper. I am a pile-er and project doer. I layer things atop things and then wonder where my needlebook hied off to. I pile books into precarious towers and socks never get matched as they struggle out of the sock drawer at the bottom of my closet whose doors are often blocked by a puddle of vintage linens that often trip in the middle of the night as I tip-toe through the dark for a glass of water or trip to the loo. I sit and give all the mess, my mess a stern stink-eye and then I plan on the approach I should take but never actually approach any of it.

So, now you know. The mister cleans and I don't. But there is a reason behind our odd methods. Generally, he vacuums when I am not home as the dust that kicks up get busy with my allergies and well, you've heard that song before. He cleans while I take care of laundry and food stuffs. It all balances out in some way.
So while the hum of the vacuum sent vibrations rippling out through the casa, I lounged on the June bed (pictures soon) in a soft t-shirt and grey floral pajama bottoms, tissue clutched in one hand, this book in the other as the early afternoon sunlight flittered in between the blinds. There was a breeze, warm and possibly scent filled (not that I would know for certain) coupled with random pips and chirps of the hummingbirds that visit the large purple agapanthus outside the window. Occasionally I would hear the whisper of the parasols that hang from the ceiling as they brushed up against one another when an especially lusty breeze burst through (and/or the stomp-stomp-stompiness of our upstairs neighbor got stompier than usual).
By the time I finished the book, I realized it was quiet. No hum, no clatter. I poked my head out the bedroom door and craned to look down the hallway. While I was reading and daydreaming away in the bedroom, the mister was asleep on the now floral covered sofa. I smiled as the mister never gets a chance to nap and naps are favorite things to us a-go-gos.

It was a Saturday well spent even if I did not get anything done, the mister did. 

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like a lovely way to spend a Saturday indeed. :)