The definition of "tidying" is likely to change depending on the one doing the defining. I'm holding on to the hope that one day I'll blossom into a thorough housekeeper, but right now, simply keeping the clutter under control is my daily aspiration.
I sent the children outside with a blanket and a basket of grilled cheese sandwiches, chips, root beer and Pixy Sticks last glorious Sunday afternoon, then set to work inside. I picked up pieces 47-50 of a 50-piece magnetic building set and put them in their proper place. I did the same with three marbles and two pieces of marble run. Stray Legos, doll socks, stickers and a seashell turtle followed.
I changed three toilet tissue rolls with one square remaining, threw away one paper napkin from the table and pushed six books back onto the bookshelf. I straightened a comforter, shot a sock into the hamper and tipped up a sideways toy bin. In the kitchen, I drank the last three drops of juice before setting out a new bottle. I emptied six containers of leftovers which all together would not have equalled a serving.
By this time, the children had gathered up the remains of their picnic and, seeing the house so uncharacteristically tidy, were extra diligent about putting everything away. I asked, were they sure they gotten everything? and was assured they had. I sighed, grabbed a trash bag, headed outside, and spent the next 10 minutes collecting Pixy Stick tube tops from the yard.
Five people and a small dog live in this house, four people and the dog 24 hours a day. That's a fact. Messes are completely made but only partly tidied. That's another fact. But it's a comforting thought that we're all just a misplaced shoe or thorough vacuuming short of perfect.
