I know I said I was going to clean the kitchen today. So you might be surprised when you get home and see the kitchen is in fact, not clean.
I’d love to offer an explanation.
First, I walked into the kitchen with the sole intention of cleaning it. I picked up the hairbrush and rubber bands off the kitchen table and walked to the bathroom to put them in the drawer.
While in the bathroom, I noticed a pile of towels on the floor that had been laying there fermenting for several days, so I grabbed the towels and headed to the laundry room.
Once there, I decided to go ahead and do a load since both hampers were spilling over and the room smelled like cat pee and B.O. had a baby. I cranked the dials on the washer, shut the lid, and headed back to the original job: the kitchen.
But on my way to the kitchen I was sighted by Child B—a hangry Child B. The child and her whines followed me into the kitchen, where I promptly handed her a cheese stick and told her to go eat it in the garage (because the kitchen is being cleaned right now, obviously).
The sight of the child reminded me I hadn’t emailed her teacher back yet about the Valentine’s party, so I ran to the computer in our bedroom.
As I opened the computer, Child C rushed in screaming because his cape fell off. I fixed the cape, but didn’t fix it the right way so he immediately melted to the floor.
I carried Child C kicking and screaming to his room to calm down.
I walked out and shut the door, but immediately walked back in order to remove the cowboy boots so that when he inevitably started kicking the door, it wouldn’t be scuffed.
Then, I headed back to the computer to . . . what was I going to do? Fifteen minutes of Facebook later, I shut the computer.
Because, of course, I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen.
I walked into the kitchen only to realize the oven clock showed it was time to pick up Child A from school.
So, no. It’s not clean. Nothing is ever clean. My life is just a constant state of doing and never completing.
I just thought I’d let you know the situation, so you won’t ask about the state of the kitchen.
Not that you ever would.
Love you forever,
P.S. Remind me to email Child B’s teacher.
This post originally appeared on Jordan Harrell, Writer
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