Because it’s Labor Day, and because I don’t have to go into work, and because parts of my house have not been cleaned since the Truman Administration, and because I’m in a cleany sort of mood (which doesn’t happen often), I have set aside Labor Day as my day to labor. Even though I do realize that I am in fact flying in the face of the true meaning of Labor Day. And I apologize to the Day Called Labor about that. I really do.
But a little apology isn’t going to stop me from faring forth and gittin’ er done.
Here is my Official Labor Day Promo and Publicity Photo. Don’t I look like I really mean business?
I know that a few times in the past, some of you have commented on pictures I’ve posted of our house and wondered if our house stayed clean all the time.
Um. The answer to that would be no.
Cases in point?
My bedside table.
And just so you know what all the junk is for:
1. The clock is, well, a clock.
2. The smallish white thing behind it is the controller for my heated mattress pad which I do use in the summer. Because I’m strange like that.
3. The big round thing to the right of the clock is my white noise machine which I am eternally, hereafter and everlastingly addicted to. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.
4. The black remote control turns our ceiling fan (which Steve installed) off and on; plus it adjusts the speed of the fan. Which I love. (But am not yet officially addicted to.)
5. The white fuzzy socks are one of many pair I have stashed in strategic places around the house because apart from being addicted to my white noise machine, I am also addicted to fuzzy socks; in fact, I feel quite discombobulated and insecure without them on at all times. And I mean at. all. times.
6. The small thing behind the clock is a kitchen timer which I use when I occasionally want to lie down for a few minutes and not oversleep.
I suppose the nail polish and the books are pretty self explanatory.
Now. As we gaze together at Steve’s night stand, it occurs to me that if our family didn’t love books so much . . .
. . . our house would be 66.78 percent cleaner. (Ooh. Did I just do a math problem?)
But there is good news on the messy house front. Today I tackled our master bathroom and got it squared away in a lovely sort of fashion.
Hurray for squaring away! In lovely fashion!
But. When you leave the sparkling, squared away bathroom and take a left, you see this dismaying sight.
And then you see dust on top of a dresser.
And then you think, “Woe is me. Woe is me. My house shall never be clean. I think that I will give up on all house cleaning attempts and go outside and take pictures of the sky instead.
Oh, and what’s this? Bringing my camera back down to earth a minute, I see odd colors and shapes adorning the driveway.
Hmmm. It appears that Sir Husband is also laboring on Labor Day.
As you gaze upon these pictures, let me just inform you that it is 198 degrees outside with 150% humidity and I couldn’t even stand to stay outside five minutes to take pictures before running screaming back into the house. I am not even kidding—I honestly felt like I was going to have a heat stroke and waft my way into a delicate puddle of sweaty messiness right on the steaming pavement if I stayed out one second longer.
So I have come inside to do the hard work of blogging. In a leather recliner. In an air conditioned house. Sipping a cold drink.
Have I mentioned that my husband is amazing? Working in that weather for hours? Dragging cumbersome equipment around? Lying on the hot pavement? Saving money on a car repair?
He is just one of the many reasons I am counting my blessings on this Labor Day.
So how about you? What are doing today? Laboring or not laboring?
P.S. My doctor’s visit went great on Friday and I’ve got several of the promised flood stories in process.
And now . . . let me get back to laboring.