My family and ex-husband will tell you that I am far from a domestic superwoman. It’s not that I don’t try, but it always seems there is something far more interesting to do like hang with my kids, play word games on the computer, or read a good book.
I bought that book that has American women everywhere whipping through their housekeeping in seconds a day, shining their sinks and bouncing around in their laced up tennis shoes. My hope was to let my love of reading take me to a new level of cleanliness. The author lost me when she suggested I should be cleaning with my hair fixed and makeup on. My definition of blasphemy is wasting good makeup and hair on a cleaning sweatfest.
In an effort to reduce some of the clutter, I have begun going through my mail when I bring it in and tossing the junk, yet somehow junk and clutter spontaneously reproduce on my bar and kitchen table. At this point I would like to mention that I do not store things on the stove. Asking a friend where her misplaced checkbook could be, she replied to me that it was on her stove. This made it clear to me she wasn’t eating at home much.
But, I digress– back to my table. Over the years I have beome convinced that table was there to catch my kids backpacks, coats, stray mail, and other bits of detritus that no one has bothered to put away. Who knew you could serve a meal on one?
I felt better knowing I was not alone in my plight, when, just today, my friend K shared some wisdom with me, “I really did see this on TV…the surface was bare except for plates and such, and the people sat around it eating. It was wild.”
Having discovered this revolutionary new idea for using the common table, I am vowing to once again find the surface of this utilitarian object and put it to its proper use. I can’t wait to hear the “oohs and ahhs”, and see the glow of joy on my family’s faces as I serve them a gourmet meal at our clutter-free table. Okay, okay, maybe I will just start with mac and cheese.