My mind (mindless mix)

This morning I woke up to Ian and John arguing about the bathroom light. It was too bright for Ian in the early morning darkness and he wanted to turn on the hall light instead. John (from bed) insisted that he turn on the bathroom light and close the door so as not to wake up JJ. Have you ever heard an arguement between a half-asleep man and a three-year-old who has to go to the bathroom? No actual logic involved.


Got Husband off to school. Called him 1 minute later to come back and get his lunch. Emptied the dishwasher between cereal bites. It is pouring outside, filling the house with a delicious scent and I'm already twitchy with the thought of being stuck inside all day. Start making notes on the chalkboard - ideas of things to do to keep us all sane.


The boys run up and down the hall while I do breakfast dishes. They jump on my bed while I put away the last of the clean clothes, folded neatly in a laundry basket. My stomach starts cramping again (note to self, ask the doctor about that at appointment next week).


Sitting on the floor in the hall to sort dirty laundry, I notice the fingerprints all over the bathroom doorjamb. How did it get so dirty? Ian climbs on the bathroom cupboard and begins "cleaning" the mirror with a medicine dropper and a washcloth. JJ overturns the laundry basket to make climbing on and off my bed easier.


With my trusty new weapon, Clorox disinfecting wipes, I tackle the doorjamb. (I love disinfecting wipes! I could write sonnets about those things.) Then I notice the bathroom door also needs some attention, and the door to the coat closet. I scrub off something sticky and unrecognizable, trying not to think about what it might have been. I admire my work. I had forgotten it was supposed to be white. Finally starting the first batch of laundry, I notice the washing machine is also coated with a fine layer of dirtiness. Back for more disinfecting wipes. Ahhh, that looks so much better, but the cracks are full of grime. Note to self: come back with more wipes and also q-tips. Is that normal? (Hmm, maybe that is what I should be talking to the doctor about.)


So you may have to pass the scrapbook stuff I left scattered over the table last night, trip over 50 some odd cars and trucks and wade through the piles of laundry, but next time you stop by, notice that my bathroom door is clean.