Hey all,

I’m sitting at my dining room table thinking about house work.

My husband isn’t home, which is a rare occasion in our “post-Covid” world, where we both still work from home and generally live life in a semblance of self-imposed quarantine. This is mainly because we are both deeply introverted homebodies, who are quite good at keeping ourselves happily busy within our four, mortgaged walls. It took me a long time to accept the term “homebody”. I wear the badge with pride.

So what to do with a house to myself? Great question!

For some sick reason, my first thought was, “I could clean!”

Then, I stepped back for a moment and said, “No. There are more fun ways to spend my Saturday than cleaning the house after a week with a migraine.”

Oh, the self imposed guilt. The inner voice that says, “But won’t you feel so much better after the house is cleaned?”

Probably. I mean definitely yes. However, I will be exhausted with an aching back, too tired to sit and do what I really want to do, which is write.

And it made me think of this poem I found by Rose Milligan.

If you are in the same boat as me, having put in a load of wash and emptied the sink, but really your heart is thinking of the thing all the while that you REALLY want to be doing…this is your permission slip.

Our permission slip, if you will.

The dust will be there tomorrow. Today it can watch us live our best lives.

Until next time, friends.