Sunday is a day when, for me, everything seems possible. Can I make an affordable, healthy, tasty meal every day this week? Why, yes. Can I set aside time every day for scripture study? Certainly. Can I keep my house in the nearly crisp state I have spent the entire weekend to achieve? No prob-o-lem. Ah, Sunday. How I love you. I'm glad you come around every seven days so I can have this feeling of empowerment and starting-over-ness that I love so much. Even if it is all shot to hades by Tuesday afternoon.
Right now I'm sitting in my greatest triumph of the weekend--the back room, aka The Room of Death, aka The Pit of Despair, aka The Garage. Yeah, I know that last one is not nearly so dramatic, but I found it to be an accurate description of what this room has come to be in the nearly nine months that James and I have lived here. It is the catch-all, the hiding place of messes, the museum for pieces that may yet come in handy. At least--it was (cue dramatic music)--until now. Yes, friends--as of yesterday this room has been transformed into a clean and highly functional actual room. The bookshelf holds (mostly) books; the hutchy-thing stores craft materials; the desk is home to assorted paperwork, old pairs of glasses, and the sewing machine; the floor is (blessedly) clean of clutter--I even vacuumed it. (By the way, I think the "Hardest Word to Spell Ever" award goes to "vacuumed".) *Tracie if you're reading this, notice the British style punctuation. I couldn't help myself.* Ok ok, let me get to the best part. The best part is we've moved the birds nest-y chair to right below the window, which I now have open and the cool breeze (can you believe it was warm enough today -70 degrees!- that I can appreciate a cool breeze?) is softly wafting through the window and making me feel even stronger that sense of Sunday possibility.
Try, Try Again: The Couch Saga Continues...
5 years ago