while they play…

Is this a sign from the Post Master General?

I’m not gonna blow smoke up your skirts, ladies. I’ll admit it. I don’t like to clean.
Let it be known, henceforth.
I love crafting. I loathe household chores.

Martha Stewart , I am.
Donna Reed, I am not.

I have three little children that keep me on my toes, as it is, what with waitressing, boogie-wiping, t.v. volume control and incessant referee-ing.

Cleaning, for me, is more something I wait to do just to blow off some steam. Or when I am really in the mood for it. (I assure you, if you go check out my Blogger profile right now, cleaning will most definitely not be on my list of hobbies.)

Since moving into a house that is easily twice the size of our previous dwelling,

I have been hit hard with the cold reality that the cleaning ritual I have grown so accustomed to, is now in need of a serious overhaul!

We now have hardwood floors that stretch out over the entirety of both the living and dining rooms. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, everything that my children have ever come into contact with in the course of their dirty, sticky, fun-filled day, ends up all over those hardwood floors.


20070616-DSC_6580 copy, originally uploaded by kalurah.

I sweep, I empty the dust pan, turn back around and the floors have a fresh dusting of childhood all over them again.

It’s like an amazing magic trick.

And I really, really, really want to know how this one is done.

Just today, I was staring at my wood floors in dumbfounded wonderment once again.
For, just barely a day ago, I had swept and mopped and low and behold, there was the proof of this magic in action.

Then I opened the front door to retrieve the mail.
And as I turned the knob, a bright light pushed the door all the way open. The sound of doves flapping their wings wafted through the air along with angelic song.
And then I layed my eyes upon it.


As heavenly and as timely as this little surprise was, it was a little creepy.

How did “they” know?

about my magic-practicing children and their dirty little tricks?

and their love of Shrek?

I told you.
Just creepy.

p.s. I did not order this. Nor was it a gift. It just came in the mail, un-announced, along with a Survey card to fill out and return.

kalurah

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4 responses to “Is this a sign from the Post Master General?”

  1. Eerie. I hear you on the floors–the mass of crumbs after a meal sometimes exceeds the mass of food that made it into their stomachs.

  2. Melissa,
    Tell me about it! I don’t know how many times that very sentence has escaped my lips! 🙂

  3. That is creepy… very big brother. Oh, yes, our every buying move is being recorded somewhere. Scary.

  4. Those are SO useful on wood floors!

    Maybe you have a secret parent admirer who sees the insanity that comes when there are multiple children in the house, remembers how hard it is, and is looking out for you.

    Maybe next month a babysitter will show up on your doorstep holding a ticket to your favorite place in the world and willing to stick around a few days while you have some fun…all by yourself! Ahhhhh.