I'm trying to work up my enthusiasm to clean the kitchen. I tackled the mudroom earlier (straightened the shoes, swept up the dust, crammed all the newspaper bags into one big bag, kicked Will's lacrosse equipment into the Man's study), because I always feel neat and orderly when the mudroom is neat and orderly. But the kitchen is a bigger, badder job. Still, after the mudroom, it's the spot that gives me the most bang for my cleaning buck. A clean, shiny kitchen hums "La-dee-da, all my ducks are in a row," every time you walk through.
But it's so much work to clean it, especially after Jack's been cooking. Jack made a lemon tart for French class (they're doing a unit on food right now) last night. He's getting better about doing the dishes after he makes his pies, but still doesn't understand the concept of wiping down a counter. So there will be lots of sticky stuff to contend with.
Speaking of Jack, he turned thirteen last Friday. It's a big deal, except for the fact that he's been acting thirteen for three years now. He got a new bike and some computer stuff and some books. I don't think he said thank you for any of it. In fact, I don't think he's said thank you since he turned thirteen three years ago. We'll have to work on that.
Yesterday, on my walk I met my neighbors Kurt and Carolyn. They live next door to the garden pictured above (the one cultivated by shy people) and have quite an impressive garden themselves. Kurt told me he doesn't garden so much as collect plants. Here's a picture of a lily from somewhere in South America:
Here is the truth about Kurt and Lily: They are plant geeks. I mean that in the nicest possible way. You can just tell they think plants are the most interesting things in the world, and they talk about them in an informed and interesting way and then stop before you might get bored. I'm glad to know them.
The kitchen is calling me but I'm ignoring it.
This morning after my walk I decided to take a quick trip over to the Sarah P. Duke Gardens. I haven't been in ages, and this is the time of year to go. I thought I'd try to learn a bit more about the plants of my region and enjoy the flowers. And I did learn, and I did enjoy, but you know what? I prefer the gardens in my neighborhood, especially the messy, crazy ones. I'm not really an orderly person, when you get right down to it. Somebody better break the news to my kitchen.
So what are you doing this weekend? If you have the urge to clean somebody else's refrigerator, let me know. There's one sitting in my kitchen, and it's calling your name.
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.