Reality of Keeping House

Some days my adult life doesn’t look like the one I imagined.  For one, my house doesn’t look anything like I thought it would.  I used to imagine built-in bookshelves, white trim, a comfy chair with colorful throw pillows.  I used to think I’d have a kitchen large enough to entertain friends who sat around an island, laughing and sipping margaritas while I sauteed and chopped and assembled homemade goodness.  Instead, my adult life often looks like this.


There are more dishes than parties in my galley (a.k.a. small) kitchen.

Things in my house have arrived without my knowledge like this pink rubber ducky.


And any horizonal space becomes home to science projects, string, beard hair, dust …


… and sippy cups and school papers and water bottles …


… and files and dirty plates and popcorn bowls …


… and toliet paper, purchased a week ago, waiting to be put away.


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