Chaos Follows the Bomb

In my last post, I detailed the condition of my kitchen. That was Saturday. This is Monday, and it's pretty much still like that, except I've run the dishwasher. And picked a turkey and started it into stock (but haven't finished it, mind you.). And made a pot of soup.

Sunday was busy. I did clean and vacuum the living room in the afternoon (and I usually can't be bothered to do any more than the absolute necessities on a Sunday) because otherwise my head might explode. But the kitchen only got dishwasher duty.

Today we left for town right after breakfast and then came home after lunchtime and promptly went outside for the entire afternoon. It was a beautiful day and I have lots to get done out there, and it's easier not to see the kitchen if I'm outside.

I came in and made supper, which we ate, and I nursed the baby, and then toasted my tooshie by the woodstove for a few minutes. (Still ignoring the kitchen... and now the living room was also a moshpit) So as I was just motivating myself to get outside to do the milking, there was a knock at the door. It was a neighboring Amish girl, asking if I would mix cake frosting for her. Enough to fill an ice cream bucket. I've done it for her before-- the Amish like the way an electric mixer makes the frosting so nice and fluffy (not to mention considerably easier than by hand!).

Now I know very well that people only stop by when the house is a mess. But seriously? Someone wanted to use my kitchen at the very exact moment of it's messiest ever? I felt a little faint. (To say nothing of the fact that every time I drop in at an Amish person's house, it's spick'n'span, even in the midst of some giant project like canning a vat of soup, or something.) And then there was the typical evening chaos-- I went out to get the milking and feeding done (Amish Girl and her brother waited in the messy living room) and when I came in, Evan was squalling. It was 8:00 and he had gotten up from his nap at 5, so he was beyond exhausted. Nathan was valiantly holding his ground. So I had this bucket of milk to take care of, and I couldn't even find a place to set it down. I cleared off a counter for Amish Girl to start measuring frosting ingredients into the mixing bowl while I filtered the milk and promptly spilled some all over the floor when I went to pour Jonah his customary cup of warm and fresh.

I pretty much just had to grin and bear it, keep it real, etc. This is me, sometimes I'm a slob, this is my house, often it's a mess. Now lets spatter frosting all over it, too. (Sweet Amish Girl cleaned up and washed the dishes that we used, though, so that helped!)

Life is too short to spend it all cleaning.