I LOVE coming home to a clean house. The only problem is that that rarely happens. I’m not even really sure why—I mean, it seems like I’m ALWAYS cleaning. So, who keeps messing up my house?! Is Molly Kittenclaws throwing raging cat-nip parties while I’m at work? Are tiny mess-making fairies running amuck as I sleep? It remains an unsolved mystery.
But this afternoon, at least, one room was still orderly upon my return. Miraculously, I awoke 10 minutes before my alarm sounded this morning. Those precious spare moments afforded me time not only to languish over my morning coffee, but also gave me just the extra minute I needed to make the bed -something so simple, yet rarely achieved in my weekday rush to work.
High heels dangling from one hand, my cardigan in the other, I tiredly pushed my way into the master bedroom. The sun is shining through the blinds, the birds are singing, the furniture shines, and the bed—the bed is beautiful! The duvet is crisp, the pillows are fluffed, and the sheets are neatly folded at the border.
Bear with me, I’m having a moment here. Do you hear singing? I do.
I forget the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, am unfazed by Molly’s feather-toy on the stairwell landing and the pile of size 14 man shoes that have accumulated by the front door. I can’t be bothered with laundry that needs folding or the sorting of mail.
I just want to stand here and look at the made bed and smile. Ahhhhh…gratitude. It really is the little things.
*Photo not my actual bed (but I wish it was!)
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