Admittedly, it's supposed to, but still. I vacuum now to avoid a live burial under dog hair. But I'll never be one of those truly avid tidy people. You know them--maybe are one and if so, no judgement here! Y'all come to my house and we have to move furniture? Yeah, there will dust bunnies with fangs, eating the lost cat toys.
And here's a bit of Friday Philosophy: We live on in how people remember us. I'm thinking "She always had a spotless house." is not how I want to go out. Not buried under a hoarder's avalanche, either, of course...
My high school friends and I lost one of our own a week ago; sorry for the burial theme. I am not old yet, but I am approaching an age when having friends die is no longer rare. Say what you mean while you have 'em around to say it, is all I can recommend.
His name was Bryan Skinner. A north Texas version of the dopey Surfer Dude. If he had been a dog, he would have been a Golden Retriever / Great Dane mutt. Loved everyone, would help anyone. Several of the guys had a garage band called Purple Haze--my mom painted their Logo on their base drum. Skinner played the guitar, a blonde blue-eyed heart throb. And though he sounded dumb as a bag of hammers half the time, he was smart as a whip--that creepy math kind of smart. He was also a good guy, who loved his many friends. His funeral is today in our home town, and I can't be there.
Well at any rate, it is Friday and I do have to vacuum. And do bathrooms, inventory fridge, and dust. Some time ago I discovered that doing the housework on Friday is like school letting out on the weekend. After I finish the housework, I'll take my dog to the dog park.
Y'all have a good weekend. And hug all the people you love today.
