The Guest Bedroom
by Brooke on October 15, 2008 
2 comments »
2 comments »
Today I lolligagged.
Oh, I knew I shouldn’t. After all, we were expecting guests over the weekend, and the house needed a good sparkling, the laundry a good spanking {it never behaves}.
It was ten o’clock. Then eleven fifteen. As the minutes ticked by, I could think of a thousand and eight ways to use them up very, very slooowly. None of these brilliant ideas had anything to do with a toilet brush.
At one in the p.m. I knew the death knell was about to sound. The children would soon be whisked home from school. Dinner dishes would pile, homework would be calling. And somewhere in the midst of the afterschool whirlwind, guests would arrive. It was now or never.
So I got to work.
First, I mustered enough strength to Windex the bathroom mirror. I sullenly sorted socks and spit-shined the kitchen sink. Somewhere in the middle of all these tasks, I found the elbow grease to get some good stuff done. And done well.
Thus it was, somewhere between upstairs and down that I thought I might should tidy up the guest room, too.
When I walked into the simple box that is our extra room, I found the bed unmade. Ah, yes. The laundry. {Will is never stop misbehaving?}
I flung the red sheets out high above the bed and brought them down with billowy finesse. I tightened up the bottom sheet, and tucked in the top. I grabbed the pillows and smoothed them gently at the crown of the mattress.
Then.
In the midst of this hurry-up and clean-up job, I suddenly realized what I was doing.
I was preparing a quiet haven for our honored guests. What an honor.
The room became palpably warm. I could feel the essence of our loved ones filling up the space. I imagined their suitcases and home-toted blankets tickling the corners of the room. I yearned for their friendly bodies to hurry up and inhabit our home, bringing their own special brand of pixie dust to sprinkle into its freshly-dusted corners.
Turning off the light, I put away the vaccum and cleaning supplies and closed the laundry door.
Turns out I didn’t need to clean today, after all. Who cares if we have folded socks once Grandmonny and Papa arrive anyway? Not me. Not four children, eyes shining with excitement when the guests pull into the driveway. {They’re Here! They’re Here!}
Tomorrow, rather than catch up on that pesky laundry, I think we shall all lolligag the weekend away. Together.
Oh, I knew I shouldn’t. After all, we were expecting guests over the weekend, and the house needed a good sparkling, the laundry a good spanking {it never behaves}.
It was ten o’clock. Then eleven fifteen. As the minutes ticked by, I could think of a thousand and eight ways to use them up very, very slooowly. None of these brilliant ideas had anything to do with a toilet brush.
At one in the p.m. I knew the death knell was about to sound. The children would soon be whisked home from school. Dinner dishes would pile, homework would be calling. And somewhere in the midst of the afterschool whirlwind, guests would arrive. It was now or never.
So I got to work.
First, I mustered enough strength to Windex the bathroom mirror. I sullenly sorted socks and spit-shined the kitchen sink. Somewhere in the middle of all these tasks, I found the elbow grease to get some good stuff done. And done well.
Thus it was, somewhere between upstairs and down that I thought I might should tidy up the guest room, too.
When I walked into the simple box that is our extra room, I found the bed unmade. Ah, yes. The laundry. {Will is never stop misbehaving?}
I flung the red sheets out high above the bed and brought them down with billowy finesse. I tightened up the bottom sheet, and tucked in the top. I grabbed the pillows and smoothed them gently at the crown of the mattress.
Then.
In the midst of this hurry-up and clean-up job, I suddenly realized what I was doing.
I was preparing a quiet haven for our honored guests. What an honor.
The room became palpably warm. I could feel the essence of our loved ones filling up the space. I imagined their suitcases and home-toted blankets tickling the corners of the room. I yearned for their friendly bodies to hurry up and inhabit our home, bringing their own special brand of pixie dust to sprinkle into its freshly-dusted corners.
Turning off the light, I put away the vaccum and cleaning supplies and closed the laundry door.
Turns out I didn’t need to clean today, after all. Who cares if we have folded socks once Grandmonny and Papa arrive anyway? Not me. Not four children, eyes shining with excitement when the guests pull into the driveway. {They’re Here! They’re Here!}
Tomorrow, rather than catch up on that pesky laundry, I think we shall all lolligag the weekend away. Together.
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Judy on October 16, 2008 at 6:35 am
Sister McLay!
I loved this story. I was starting to have a rough day and was getting bogged down with stuff to do…then I read your story and it just helped me realize that I should only do the most important things and then do the little stuff later.
Darla
Jame on October 16, 2008 at 12:36 pm
Oh, Brooke….can I be a guest in your inviting guest room someday?!
I am quickly becoming an admitted Groupie of this creative blog!