A Mess

Man, my kitchen is a mess.

I decide I’m going to clean it up, right now.  I grab the clean dishes in sight and put them away.  I gather the dirty dish clothes and walk down the hall to toss it in the dirty clothes bin.  On my way down the hall I notice the shoes carelessly tossed by their rooms.  I bend to pick them up only to find socks.  I grab the shoes  and push open the door.  There is hardly an open spot on the carpet.  Shoes, socks, clothes toys and candy wrappers (a hidden stash of Halloween candy, perhaps?) litter the floor.  I toss the shoes in the closet and flee the scene.

I finally make it to my room, ie: the hamper.  Our “sanctuary,” as they say your bedroom should be, is as bad as the boys’.  Shoes, clothes, pillows and other odds-and-ends blanket our room.  I toss the towels into the bin and flee the room.

“Now, what was I doing again?”

I wander, aimlessly, back down the hall.

“It was really important…what was it?”

By this time I’m back in the kitchen.  I fill the coffee pot and start getting my kids breakfast.  It’s already 7:40.  We’re going to be late.  No time for a hot breakfast today.





Eat.  Get dressed.  Make lunch.  Off to school.

I stumble back into the kitchen after drop-off hopping I didn’t forget anything for their busy school day.  I lean on the counter and think,

“Man, my kitchen is a mess!”


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