PICKING UP AFTER A SLOB

Once a dining room.  Now a studio.

I confess, I’m the slob.

I get started on a project and my neatness factor falls off the chart.  Worst of all, it isn’t just in the work area.  I feel no guilt about unwashed dishes, un-hung-up clothes, and messy floors either.  Look at that floor…where did those books come from?  Why is my purse and hat on the ironing board?

I’ve finished the center portion of the Crow quilt, and slowly I go through the house cleaning up after myself.  I might do it faster if I weren’t quite so embarrassed by it all.  There’s fabric bits everywhere.  Magazines waiting to be read.  Ditto newsletters…they slip and slide so easily.  Cough drop wrappers look like snow near the trash can. 

Worst of all are the books.  Have I read them?  Why are they not shelved?  They live seven deep here next to my computer.  There’s piles waiting next to my side of the bed and next to my chair.  I suppose I have to do something about them.  Did I tell you that the bed got made this morning.  Perhaps it’s a sign of mental reconstruction….the slob is retreating. 

Just for a moment.  Next I go out to Rosies Quilt shop to look for a dark, dark purple fabric.

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• Himself:  He wants to feed his birds after some computer time.  Shower later.  Imagine poor G has to live with a slob like me.
• Herself:  I want to check on that quilt center before anything else.  I want it long and narrow not big and unwieldy as it is now.
• Reading:  Ruth Reichl.
• Captain Poolie:  Much better yesterday.  More brain seeding this coming week.  She has effectively lost September tho.
• Gratitude’s:  That we can take her a root beer float every day.