Neverending Lau-ahn-dreeee!

If there’s one thing I hate in life, it’s chocolate-covered raisins. Such deception!

A close second, however, is housework.

Dishes, tidying up, laundry, vacuuming, dusting, toilets, mirrors, counters, beds, shelves, drapes, dishes, windows, cooking, laundry, showers, mopping, dishes, and laundry -over and over in a neverending cycle!!

Growing up with chores, I knew my parents assigned them out of a sadistic sense of selfishness. When I’m older, I vowed, I am never doing jobs!

I haven’t quite checked that one off my bucket list.

I have learned which tasks I prefer over others. Like, loading a dishwasher or organizing a space instead of putting away clothes. And, I’ve talked with others who’ve told me their most- and least-favorite chores. An aunt says she hates vacuuming the floor but my sister loves it.

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Which leads to today’s obvious question: do you think chocolate-covered raisins are an abomination?

All right, all right. Do you have a household task you’re fond of? What about one you despise?

—————-

Voilà! The posts of the week we had:
Wednesday, January 12: “Ya Know What I Mean?,” wherein we discussed irritating idiosyncrasies.

Thursday, January 13: The love story of “Beatrice Box.

Friday, January 14: “Foremost, Facts are Freeing” for Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge.

Saturday, January 15: Friday Photo.

Sunday, January 16: Internet quote.

Monday, January 17: “I’m a Mormon, So I Don’t Drink Coffee.

Tuesday, January 18: “To Be Readtinued,” in answer to D. Wallace Peach’s writing prompt.

Matt of A Prolific Potpourri has been doing audio performances of my Wilhelmina Winters series. He does them once a month for Short Story Saturday and they are excellent. Go listen!!

©2022 Chel Owens

A New Day

Back and forth. In and out. Sun to down. Winter to winter, for thirty years.

The children changed. The house aged. The horses and cows and chickens and that mean old goat -all ended up at slaughter; to be replaced by horses, cows, chickens -but no more goats. For thirty years.

She stood while the priest spoke about the dark shadow she’d known for so very long. This and that. Bless his soul. Rest in peace.

Veiled and black. Grey and old. No more back or forth, in or out, sun to down. Clouds clearing, she smelled the spring.

Photo by Ellie Burgin on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

Awakened in response to Carrot Ranch‘s prompt this week:

October 15, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about chores. It doesn’t have to be a western ranch chore; it can be any routine task. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by October 20, 2020. Use the comment section [on the site], read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

Christmas Musings

I am the fifth to admit that I overdo things. That’s better than last, mind you, though not as good as third might be.

ariel-besagar-497034-unsplash.jpg

I delude myself that I am simple, efficient, and practical. I only own a Pinterest account because I had a writing job that involved saving pictures for crafting articles. I eschew the latest fashion or home-decorating trend. My children receive rules and guidelines but no sort of life-planned-out Supermom schedule. And, despite being in this Stay At Home Mom profession for over a decade, I do a terrible job at housekeeping in general.

I’ve decided I’m trying to get fired -but that’s a side topic for another post.

Back to fifth place: I’ve had a busy two weeks. In fact, we need to go back at least three months because events then affected the crunch of now.

Not that I voluntarily hurt my tailbone in a really really really bad way. I did, however, schedule a surgery on November 6. I also neglected to remember that Thanksgiving was on the fourth Thursday and would therefore arrive not-too-long-after that surgery. Then, I forgot that we all usually attend The Festival of Trees… which precedes a holiday most of the world celebrates… and that led to a service project for the boys’ principal, an annual Christmas newsletter to be sent with cards, decorating for Christmas, a son’s birthday party (with a theme and guests), and cookie-making and distribution.

Congratulations on getting through that last paragraph. You can rest, here, with me.

eduardo-flores-759365-unsplash

Even though I do not re-label juice boxes for birthday themes, I tend to take on a lot at one time. I also have a high standard of perfection. Maybe I think things are more exciting that way?

I mean, I not only did everything in that too long; didn’t read paragraph, I also have been trying to uncover the house from the molding lump it degenerated into whilst I was recovering/ignoring it. Add shopping for presents and food, plus wrapping all the gifts for everyone, and my cup runneth over six feet below the surface of the well.

I mean… I spray-painted Costco milk boxes to look like Minecraft blocks. My Christmas newsletter was a paragraph for each of seven well-known poems, incorporating bits of A Visit from St. Nicholas AND news about each family member. My cookies were all from scratch.

Maybe I really am one of those Supermoms, just one who sometimes wears pajamas in public ’cause I love my comfort.

Maybe everyone overdoes his life, and it’s not just me.

…Tell me it’s not just me?

 

This week in review, because I’m taking tomorrow and the next day off. So, there!
Wednesday, December 19: Down-Home Marital AdviceWhat’s your take?
Thursday, December 20: The day my kids got out for Christmas Break. So… I got the days mixed up and posted The WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Molly and Gerard!
I also apologized for messing up, in The Most Sleep-Deprived Time of the Year.
Friday, December 21: Skinwalkers, XLVI.
Saturday, December 22: Christmas Cookie Limericksterrible rhymes about my baking exploits.
Sunday, December 23: This post.

I also almost thought about planning on the possibility of catching up on my Reader’s Feed. If you see that I left a comment way back on December 12, then I finally have. My apologies if you’ve felt slighted in the meantime.

Do You Believe in Magic?

business-1839191_1920

Here, he sits. The screen reflects his fat fingers, his glasses, his balding head.
Between lines of numbered reports, his memory sees small hands, perfect sight, full hair. Laughter.

There, she pauses. Against the mopped floor rest her orthopedic shoes, her sore cankles, her ample midsection.
Mundane mind-wanderings recall barefoot summers, skinny legs, an inverted belly button. Happiness.

Where, do we stand? Honest bathroom mirrors capture our eye lines, our neck bulges, our long wrinkly faces.
Fleeting cognizance remembers smooth skin, thin necks, unblemished features. Smiles.

Fairy dust? Hardly. Evaporating imagination pulls us ever farther from Never-Neverland.

 

Carrot Ranch Literary Society Prompt