My Thursday

I look forward to Thursdays all week because, even in retirement, life can be busy. I schedule nothing on Thursday that I need to leave the house for. I protect the day. It’s mine.

On Wednesday I receive the latest lesson from the Be Still – Fifty Two class I’m taking from Kim Klassen. I usually give it a quick perusal when it arrives in my email on Wednesday afternoon and allow the inspiration to percolate overnight until Thursday. My day.

I’ve been thinking about a few writing projects I want to turn my attention to as well. A couple of situations I’ve found myself in recently sparked ideas. Thursdays are the perfect day to sequester myself away in my woman cave and write.

Gerry leaves the house early on Thursday morning for a men’s meeting. I wake to a sometimes-cool cup of coffee on my bedside table, smile, and settle in to read for a while. Other times, like today, I wake early and he personally delivers said cup of morning coffee to me in bed. Life is good.

This morning he handed me a second cup of coffee and kissed me goodbye. As I sat sipping and reading in bed I heard a few bangs and crashes coming from the direction of the foyer. I tried to ignore the activity in the kitchen and foyer as cupboard doors opened and closed, water was turned on, and hubby padded back and forth between kitchen and foyer. Finally I could stand it no longer.

“Gerry? What are you doing?” I called from the comfort of my bed where I tried to maintain the sense of serenity morning coffee in bed evokes.

He poked his head around the corner.

“You don’t want to know.”

Now maybe I’m alone in this but I don’t do well with not knowing what’s happening in my home. There was no way I could let this go. I probed until he told me he had banged into the side of the doorway and spilled the cup of coffee he was taking with him to men’s meeting.

“It’s just coffee. I’m almost finished wiping it all up.”

Alrighty.

Later, after I had showered, made the bed, and was thinking ahead to my plans for the day, I took a pile of dirty clothes to the laundry room and noticed that the floor was a bit sticky. I’ll have to wash that before I head down to my woman cave, I told myself. I noticed a few splashes of coffee on the door frame that I’d need to wipe up at the same time.

I put the laundry in the washer and grabbed a rag and spray bottle of vinegar, water, and lemon essential oil and began wiping down the door frame. And the closet door. And the wall. I crouched down on the floor and wiped up the sticky spots (Did I mention that Gerry uses sugar in his coffee? Sticky? Yes.)

Now the other thing about Thursday is that I wear my glasses at home. Translation: I see things I sometimes otherwise miss. So, as I wiped the coffee splatters from the floor and the baseboards I couldn’t help but notice that they needed cleaning in general. It seemed that the more I wiped the more I saw things I need to tend to.

I really need to wipe down all of the closet doors and door frames and all the base boards need dusting. I never did get the pantry cleaned out last week like I intended to. We were away for the weekend and this week has been busy I’m behind on almost everything.

But it’s Thursday. My day. Sigh.

I waffled for a few minutes. Should I just give in and spend the morning doing housework? I could get to that photography lesson this afternoon.

But it’s Thursday. (Cue the whiny voice.)

If you come to my house today don’t look too closely at my baseboards because I’ll tell you right now that they’re dusty and in need of cleaning. It’s entirely possible that there me be some rogue coffee splatters on the wall in the foyer too because I chose to stay the course and do Thursday the way I had planned: photography, writing, and other creative endeavors will be my focus on this Thursday. My day.

Housework? Well tomorrow’s another day.