Friday, 8 February 2013
The other day I was thinking about my home. And comparing. And wishing. And I longed for things to be finished. Absolutely everything in our house needs to be either finished, fixed, tossed, or scrubbed. I don't really know where to start. I don't want to spend my days feeling guilt for all I've left unfinished or procrastinated. I want to live in my home. I want to look around and see peace, not chaos. I want to be able to go on a family outing knowing that I'll be able to come home and rest, not come home and clean up the week's mess.
I know some of this is part of living with young kids. And I can accept and live with that part. But it's the things that I've put off for four years, like painting the rest of the walls, or cleaning the kitchen's ugly mini-blinds (or better yet, replacing them) that bother me. I know I could have a relatively clean and peaceful home if I would only prioritise the art of homemaking instead of procrastinating the work of housekeeping.