With all of the crafting that I’ve been doing lately, I decided to turn a spare bedroom into a craft room. It started out fine; with ribbons and fabrics in their assigned areas, and styrofoam balls in theirs. Lately, it’s become, somewhat, of a disaster; a ground zero for creative madness. It took forty five minutes, three unladylike words, and two stumped toes... to find one pair of scissors the other day. It has become apparent, that I’ve no choice left, but to clean it.
I haven’t dreaded the act of cleaning this much, since the kids left home. I’ll never forget the chaos, that each child left behind, after moving out. They each left behind half eaten boxes of their favorite cereals, a squalling mama, and a messed up room. I have to say, though, that Augie’s was the most -- for lack of a better word -- eventful.
It was three weeks and a day, before I could emotionally, undertake the task. I finally just dug in; not unlike the painful digging of a splinter from the hand. Within ten minutes, I stepped on a fish bait. Thankfully, I was wearing slippers, and wasn’t barefoot.
I nearly stabbed myself, with an open knife, that was hidden under a pile of dirty clothes. I tripped over a dumbbell, turned over a spit cup, and picked up a rattlesnake rattler, and almost had a heart attack.
In a weak and sweat drenched state, I was finally done. I gave the room a proud and thorough stare, and in the voice of Tangina from Poltergeist, muttered ‘this house...is clean’.
That short lived euphoric feeling makes the mess almost worth it. We create messes, wallow in them, dread cleaning them up, but feel so accomplished and fulfilled when we do. It’s like a majestic pat on the back.
Isn’t life, in general, just a messy room? Careless abandon, temporary euphoria, and mindless procrastinations? Thankfully, as long as there are tomorrows, we all get the chance to clean them up.
Y’all have a wonderful day, but first...’go clean your room’.