“Jane went back into the kitchen to the inexorable tasks that death has no power, even for a day, to blot from existence. He can stalk through dwelling after dwelling, leaving despair and desolation behind him, but the table must be laid, the dishes washed, the beds made, by somebody.”
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
How true - even when death is around - you still have to do the ironing!
Yesterday, at 6:30am I was on my knees washing the bathroom floor.
We're all been there. Someone was coming round, and like most people who smile and say you have to take me as you find me - there are times I don't mean it. Hubby had Monday off work to watch my youngest daughter's school leaving ceremony AND do his VAT return. In case you are not familiar with this task - it involves lots of bits of paper that need to be spread out over a large surface. I'm in the middle of a non fiction book. In case you are not familiar with this task - it involves lots of bits of paper that need to be spread out over a large surface. Both my daughters are doing - something. In case you are not familiar with this task - it involves lots of bits of paper that need to be spread out over a large surface.
It looks a mess, but it kind of needs to be there, out in the open just where you can put your hand on it. Then of course I have a three seater leather settee propped up in the kitchen awaiting The British Heart foundation pick up.
I have washed and ironed, but I haven't put the clothes away yet as I'm in the process of going through the girls clothes and old school uniform to donate to charity.
Yes the house needs cleaning but, other things need sorting first. Then you get the calls asking if its ok to pop round. These your friends who you love and would understand but, you really don't want them to see the organisation process which would look like a mess to the untrained eye. I tried to suggest going to their place - but of course when your place is a tip - yours is the only place that will do. And that is how you end up on yours knees with the bleach first thing in the morning.
I had just shoved all my notes into a pile and stuffed them into a cupboard and pushed all of the receipts back in the file when of course the 8:30am call came to cancel. After dropping my child off at school I drove home and realised that to start work back on my non fiction work I would have to 'unstuff' all the papers out of the cupboard and spread them out over a large surface.
It is the last day of school, my last day alone in the house for six weeks. So I put a wash on, washed up and sat down. I watched a television programme without the laptop on my knee. And I drifted into a dream about my next short story... By the time I was ready to pick up my daughter from Primary School for the very last time I felt completely refreshed.