By golly some days just seem to roll on by without a thought as to staying in the present . . . well that may not be the norm, but it does happen to me. It is very true that with Stauffer Avenue being a great retreat for two old retired folks, the days of the week and the times of the day do not have the same importance as in times gone by. We don’t make light of family or appointments. What I can’t shut off is what is almost as if a silent alarm goes off in my head and I know I need to stay focused, sometimes too much so. Who does it really matter too that the house and property has a bit that needs doing?
I had an aunt named Corrine. She was what was referred to as an old maid until she found “her Allen” in her early 60s and they made a home together while he was employed at Bongard’s Creamery near Norwood, MN.
Corrine always worked out as a hired gal on farms, taking care of the homes, canning, cleaning and baking. Everyone knew she was a fuss budget. Everyone also knew that she never went without a job as her reputation preceded her. Whoever had her in their employment, everything was tip top and spotless.
My home has never been spotless. Having normal children will soon break you of any idealistic ideas of that. Living on a farm had allowed for any and all types of dirt and or dust. Living with an ole cowboy has its challenges as well as with four footed creatures that love our patio porch. But . . . I must admit I have quite a bit of Aunt Corrine in me. I can fuss, I can fume, I can wish for a slatted floor in the entry of our house, complete with a tray that can be pulled out and emptied. But at the end of the day, we start over and collect new dirt. Old dirt does not stick around.
In times past, having carpet in a home was just the “cat’s meow.” I learned in my later years, it is the last thing I want in our home. Give me a Swiffer, wet or dry, and I can reasonably stay on top of anything that lands on the floor. I had at sometime back shared a photo of two-year-old Megan sitting under one of our kitchen stools and eating a snack. Kevin picked up on it and commented that I hadn’t lost my touch . . . eating off of my floor was still doable.
Most days I go with the flow, I do vent verbally at times, most times it just becomes second nature to put the head down and do what is needed and the home remains fairly clean . . . and, peaceful.