Never ceasing to be amazed.
For Richer or Poorer
Thanksgiving vacation began at 12:00 Tuesday as I finished up my final touches on the room and my belongings to haul home. A merry little ride home with John to the beloved residence on that old Coffee Hollow Road to where I could kick back and put my feel up for a little bit with the occasionally running around with John and friends.
Kick my feet up? Pah, more like grab the dust rag!
It turns out that the house was in some need of a dust and vacuum for the holidays and for it's cleaning recruit all signs pointing to me. I started in the living room and worked my way to the kitchen and then to the stairwell. By the time I was done doing the windows and pictures, dusting the shelves, changing the lightbulbs, and vacuuming the carpet and rugs, I was starting to ponder how the upper-class societies do it in their beast-like homes.
Honestly, I see why there are hired help. It took me quite a while to get done with the tasks that were pretty basic. I didn't even get to touch the bathroom! (But then again, who would want to?) If I owned some multi-million dollar estate with pool and beach house with all the accommodations of the rich and famous, the dust would recollect where I started by the time I got the end. My house isn't even that big or complex compared to other's. Cleaning would require a team at a big old honkin' joint. (I guess that team is called kids. No wonder parents got the idea to have them.) Yet who would really want to be on a cleaning team? A half hour into the mop and sponge production at least one member would disappear and start playing with something entertaining found under the couch that has been missing for a year or so.
When I finally reach the age to build a home and have enough financial stability, (even though I will still look like a 16 year old, but I'm not complaining. Due to my genetic make-up, I can bypass all of anti-wrinkle cream for awhile until the interstate or grays and sags begin. But then again, who really cares? I sure don't. I don't see why people make a big fuss over the lines and hairs when all is shows is that your laughed well and loved lots. But that is another blog.) (Since you've probably forgotten the first line of the paragraph, I'll write it again.)
When I finally reach the age to build a home and have enough financial stability, I don't plan on making a gargantuan home by any means. Bills to pay, people to feed, fun to have. Who needs an indoor swimming pool with a butler? Not me. And besides, some of the cutest and warmest houses I been in are the ones that are lived in, cozy, and welcoming. Estates don't have a place or rank on my list of top 5 places to visit. Maybe for a swim, but that's what neighbors are for. (And neighbors like Jared and Val are family, so in one visit you get to converse, have a laugh, and personally my favorite, see their dog Jack.)
Best homes are KISS. Keep it simple, stupid. Well, you can take off the stupid part because my bio teacher taught me that, I didn't make it up.
Oh, and by the way...
HAPPY TURKEY DAY!
Kick my feet up? Pah, more like grab the dust rag!
It turns out that the house was in some need of a dust and vacuum for the holidays and for it's cleaning recruit all signs pointing to me. I started in the living room and worked my way to the kitchen and then to the stairwell. By the time I was done doing the windows and pictures, dusting the shelves, changing the lightbulbs, and vacuuming the carpet and rugs, I was starting to ponder how the upper-class societies do it in their beast-like homes.
Honestly, I see why there are hired help. It took me quite a while to get done with the tasks that were pretty basic. I didn't even get to touch the bathroom! (But then again, who would want to?) If I owned some multi-million dollar estate with pool and beach house with all the accommodations of the rich and famous, the dust would recollect where I started by the time I got the end. My house isn't even that big or complex compared to other's. Cleaning would require a team at a big old honkin' joint. (I guess that team is called kids. No wonder parents got the idea to have them.) Yet who would really want to be on a cleaning team? A half hour into the mop and sponge production at least one member would disappear and start playing with something entertaining found under the couch that has been missing for a year or so.
When I finally reach the age to build a home and have enough financial stability, (even though I will still look like a 16 year old, but I'm not complaining. Due to my genetic make-up, I can bypass all of anti-wrinkle cream for awhile until the interstate or grays and sags begin. But then again, who really cares? I sure don't. I don't see why people make a big fuss over the lines and hairs when all is shows is that your laughed well and loved lots. But that is another blog.) (Since you've probably forgotten the first line of the paragraph, I'll write it again.)
When I finally reach the age to build a home and have enough financial stability, I don't plan on making a gargantuan home by any means. Bills to pay, people to feed, fun to have. Who needs an indoor swimming pool with a butler? Not me. And besides, some of the cutest and warmest houses I been in are the ones that are lived in, cozy, and welcoming. Estates don't have a place or rank on my list of top 5 places to visit. Maybe for a swim, but that's what neighbors are for. (And neighbors like Jared and Val are family, so in one visit you get to converse, have a laugh, and personally my favorite, see their dog Jack.)
Best homes are KISS. Keep it simple, stupid. Well, you can take off the stupid part because my bio teacher taught me that, I didn't make it up.
Oh, and by the way...
HAPPY TURKEY DAY!
posted by Lindsay K. at 4:54 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home