My camera is broken, otherwise I’d show you proof that my dryer is broken. It’s beginning to look like a cross between performance art and a housekeeping walk-out— wet laundry languishing, unwashed laundry mounting, folded laundry permanently stationed in hampers so as not to encourage the gathering of more dirty laundry which cannot be washed.
This morning as I tried to assemble an outfit after being out of town for over a week, I looked like one of those dogs that is relegated to turning in hysterical circles as visitors approach.
I walked to the dresser— nothing.
I circled back to the closet— nothing.
I knelt down and pawed through a hamper of folded clothes— nada.
I rifled through the still-not-unpacked-suitcases— zilch.
I returned to the closet— still nothing. This went on and on, until…
“Mom, can you get me dressed? In my red, reindeer sweater with the zipper that I love ’cause it’s my favorite?”
And the circling began anew.
I made it to work, dressed no less. I am not wild about the outfit, but it is more than jeans and a tee.
I am dreading the mountain of clothing that is begging to be washed, the sheets on the bed that I want to change, but hesitate to remove for what it will mean to the great, unwashed heap, however the kitchen is clean.
If you follow me on Facebook you saw that this weekend revealed just how far the cat hidden in our attic went to to claim the space as his own. What I didn’t share is that I cleaned it and while I was at it I purged a bunch of stuff, organized and reclaimed the space.
The girls have me going non-stop and yet there was a moment this weekend that was nothing short of perfect in its oh-my-goodness-I-have-three-daughters sweetness.
All of this is a roundabout way of saying that despite the state of disrepair of many things, my life, my personal state of affairs, is beautiful. I’m almost grateful I don’t have the camera to try and capture it, this moment in time.
My beautifully broken, dirty, wacky and haphazardly dressed life.