This morning the house was finally empty as all 6 of us were home yesterday because of a snow day. I had a 10 page paper to write, so I locked myself in the home office, in the sweats I slept in, and worked all day applying Brown’s Values Based work model, while the kids “dusted”, cleaned out the barn and had snowball fights. After a day of grunge and isolation, this morning I thought I’d get dressed for the day, thinking I get out tonight, co-leading a drug and alcohol class. I got my boots on, actually “did” my hair (whatever that means) and then I realized:
I have to bottle feed the baby goats today.
Not too taxing of chore, but in my just cleaned up world, it meant changing clothes in a few hours, spending 10 minutes crawling into a pen filled with baby goats, a mamma goat, and a calf who will suck my pants while I bottle feed the little kids.
Shoot. So much for getting cleaned up.
Then I remembered the progression of my day, which, a few minutes earlier, was simple.
Work on the second paper, type client notes, feed goats, be the Merry Maid cleaning the weekly house I clean, pick up Kent from school, fix dinner for the revolving family door tonight, and then counseling at the group class tonight.
For a few minutes, I was a girl excited to do the girl thing in the mirror, mind empty of cares, listening to one of my favorite song in the background, until I remembered the rest of my life.
But then what should I expect? There was an egg on my washer this morning.