My friend V told me the story about the strange looks given to her as she outlined her gift to me. This came before I unwrapped the tissue paper, my first thought was alright. My friends know me well, some of them too well, and V was no exception to either rule.
“I told them you would get it,” V said.
I began unwrapping the first item from its tissue. I got it alright. Enough to laugh my ass off. What began as an innocent blog post, turned into my Christmas present:
I got it alright. The boys are still in their packages, waiting for their assigned spots. I plan for Loki to sit on my non-fiction book shelf, while Thorin gets the fiction section. (I have two book cases on either side of my dining room cabinet.)
It’s a lazy, Sunday afternoon as I do laundry and finally clean this place. People don’t believe me if I say it’s a mess. I came from a very, very clean home. I have a mom who cleans her home with almost military precision. I don’t mean that as a slight, but a sincere compliment after being in places not so clean. I come home from work, set up dinner, look around, then re-arrange my piles of clothes and paper. It does get messy, just not enough for an episode of hoarders.
I can almost see the bottom of my dining room table,
I have a half-made bed going,
and some general chaos.
I better go tackle some dust balls. The only thing preventing me from writing my Hobbit review is this chaotic place. I tell myself this is a place a writer lives. Whenever I feel bogged down by all the household stuff, this gets me going. That and my underwear drawer has migrated to my laundry basket.