I am posting this letter as a reminder that things are about to change real soon. This is a photo of you last year in May when the tree out front bloomed and we captured the energy while posing in front of it.
I haven't seen you in several weeks, not because I've been away. You've been home, too. It's just that our schedules are completely opposite and you have slept late and studied later for your exams, and I've been out of the house in the chaotic nature of my work: presentations, workshops, classes, and meetings.
With that noted, I realize that we live in a sty.
I am channeling Beauty Makinta here who scolded us that we should habitually take Friday evenings to scrub every corner of our house. We have both failed. The dishes in the sink, the piles of laundry, the mail that hasn't been put away, and the floors that are in great need of a vacuum are evidence of our pathetic state.
I promise that I will have time to clean over this extended weekend, in-between Cadbury eggs and jellybeans. No, I haven't graded the pile on my laptop nor have I finished several writing projects, but I am committed to maintaining our home. In fact, the presents I was given for my birthday in February that are still in the gift bags on the dining room table will finally be put away. I think the Halloween decorations, too, deserve to be relocated to the basement.
Such is the life of a graduate student and an academic, I guess.
A few weeks ago - when I partially cleaned - I told my friend, Sue, that I am this close - t h i s
c l o s e - to hiring a bimonthly cleaning service (I don't care how much it costs). Why? I am in absolute awe that a household without pets and kids can be in such disarray.
It's not as bad as it could be, of course, but when I saw sugar ants swimming in my cereal this morning (yes, they're back and this year they're wearing flippers and goggles), I realized it's time to prep our home. I've ordered an anteater and some Clorox. We've got this. Martha Steward will be proud.
That Guy Who Sleeps and Showers in the Same Home As You,
PS: How is it that we are never here, but we can make such a mess?