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.

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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.

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

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… and sippy cups and school papers and water bottles …

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… and files and dirty plates and popcorn bowls …

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

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