I am not the tidiest mortal on the planet. I seem to have a subconscious thing going on where I spend one day cleaning and tidying the house and the other six days wrecking it!
I’m sitting here by my little corner table which has a dozen balls of knitting wool, needles, pattern, three books (the one I’m reading and the nest two I have lined up) writers magazine, another 3 different magazines, my laptop, pens, notebooks, several bookmarks, 75 cents and a Ferris wheel toy belonging to Paisley my budgie. It’s a small table.
It’s not that I don’t like housework. I actually don’t mind it. Especially as I like to do it to music. Day tripper by the Beatles is a great track for dusting to. I just don’t seem predisposed to living in a tidy home.
I keep making excuses like creative minds are never tidy, a tidy home is the sign of a wasted life but the truth is I need a 48 hour day to do everything I intend to. If the aging hippie feels like watching a flock of starlings feeding on my shed roof where I have just left their food I do. If I go to dust the sideboard and Paisley starts playing I end up talking to him. If a track comes on when I am hoovering and I want to sing along with it off goes the vacuum cleaner. This happened a lot. So I switched to headphones.
That is when I turned into my granddad. I started dancing with the vacuum cleaner. Granddad used to do it every time and it would torment the life out of my Nan. They were ballroom dancers and he had some great moves. Maybe vacuum dancing is genetic?
Even the simple everyday jobs are the same. Dish washing should take about 5 minutes, right. I end up with about 20. You see I have the radio on and then I end up having a row with it. Some host or contributor says something and I argue back calling them a ****** who couldn’t possibly think like that. When my beloved dog Shankly was alive he would come out look at me with his head tilted to one side and give me his ‘she’s on one’ look and walk off wagging his tail. I miss him in more ways than one.
Tomorrow I have time managed some housework into the daily planner. It’s all the distractions though. I can see them already. I could have left the book I’m reading at a really place and I want o pick it up, just for a few more pages. A few that’s all. Paisley could start acting the maggot when I’m cleaning his cage. He has taken quite a liking to climbing up on my iPhone when I’m texting or tweeting.
Not to worry. Nothing lifts the soul like the vacuum boogie. It’s a great workout. The all singing all dancing scorpiomoonrose variety show. I’m no Louie Spence but I can do a mean Peggy Lee.