That was my immediate reaction when I wandered out of my bedroom this morning. I didn't think, "How wonderful! The boys are home!" No, I thought, "How am I going to get this clean by Sunday?" There was no love in that initial reaction, just frustration.
I know they're not individually responsible. It's the cumulative result of their being together. Put three engineers under one roof, and you'll find a collection of "broken" items suddenly being dismantled and (eventually) reassembled into something that works.
I have to admit, they are industrious. Last night Andrew replaced the power source of the monitor that went bad last month, and now it works just fine.
But the messes!! Where do they get it from? Surely it must come from their father? yes? Maybe not.
This is a wee corner of my sewing area, just to the right of my machine. To me, it is totally organized, but to the average viewer? Probably not so organized. (Notice the embroidery machine to the right of the frame. This is why embroidering is an all-day event when I choose to do it. I have to unearth the machine beforehand, then bury it again when I am done.) ;)
And if it's time for true confessions, well, I confess. This is my desk.
I intentionally aimed the camera so that you could not see the open cabinet doors above. But I will tell you, almost ALL of my closets and cupboards (well, the sewing room is the exception), but almost ALL of them have been recently organized, and look better than what is out front for all to see.
So, I guess I can't blame the boys for making messes. It seems to be genetic, and I seem to be the carrier. sigh. Time to stop pointing fingers and go clean up!!
Work, Work, Work
1 week ago