I love the fact that I can use cliches for blogpost titles . . . and no one can yell at me. Last week, I got home from a relaxing, mostly rainy, writing retreat with my wonderful writing buddies, who happen to know how lousy I am at coming up with titles. Unfortunately, our fourth cohort couldn’t make it this year, and Demery was sick so she only joined us for one night. So, mostly it was Pauline and me in the cabin writing while it rained outside. But it was sunny on our last morning together and I took this cute picture of Demery and Pauline by Lake Jean at Ricketts Glen State Park–one of my most favorite places on earth.
And after I got home, last weekend Camilla started sleeping in her “big girl bed”.
Since I was away twice in the past month, once for over a week, the house was in desperate need of a good cleaning. This was evidenced by the HUGE spider that found its way into our foyer. And I mean HUGE. Ginormous. My wonderful sister-in-law (one of four wonderful sisters-in-law of mine) offered me her daughter to keep Camilla occupied while I worked. So Monday,
Natalie came over and played with Camilla while I cleaned up a storm. My problem is that when I do clean, I am thorough. So it takes me a long time–and hence I don’t do it often enough. I don’t know how to give it a lick and a promise. I’m going to have to work on that, or publish a bestseller so we can get some hired help. Anyway, I got the upstairs all dusted and vacuumed–really clean. It was going well. I was excited because I could envision the whole house becoming pristine over the course of the week. I’ve been so exhausted with this pregnancy that I haven’t worked that hard for a long time. And then, after lunch, after I put Camilla down for her nap, Anne called me from work. As I was talking to her, I walked into the dining room and happened to look up at the ceiling. And there were rivers of water flowing down . . .
Do you think a new house should have leaky pipes, twice in five years, IN THE SAME SPOT??? I don’t. This was not in my plan for the week. So much for a pristine home. Fortunately, my do-it-all husband fixed the pipes, replaced the ceiling, spackled and painted it. And turned white in the process.
I got over my initial outrage, thankful that it hadn’t happened while we were away . . . and really, it’s not a tragedy. Even if the china closet had been destroyed (it wasn’t) it wouldn’t have been a tragedy. Yesterday, the ceiling was finished and I got to clean the rest of the house, mostly. Maybe it’s not as perfect as I envisioned, but nothing ever is. I don’t need a perfect house, as long as it’s filled with love and joy. Why don’t I remember that in the midst of the mess?