I have just completed my daily rousing (and by this I mean sweat-drenching) 30 minute work-out wrestling with the dirty sheets of my children. I then tried to wash my hands with a rock, at which point I divulged into cursing at the nail polish adorning my previously pristine (I am sure of it) sink and the green stains that have seemingly spontaneously erupted in all my toilets. I did this from the vantage point of the porcelain throne, on which I was stuck in the undignified position of a mother whose last child has used the last itty bitty piece of toilet paper (not to mention left an empty Kleenex box behind as well). I then decided against putting the clean sheets ON my own bed, collapsed in utter exhaustion on the mattress pad, and felt a sudden surge of pride that, despite having removed any actual dirt from my home, the fresh spring air has lent a clean odor to the whole abode. At which point I cried, laughed some more...how ridiculous of me to take pride in God's good clean air! and then decided to thank the Lord for the beautiful smell of spring.
Ahhhh, what a wonderful moment of soul bliss and a huge smile at my own silliness!
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