"You can find pictures anywhere.
It's simply a matter of noticing things and organizing them.
You just have to care about what's around you
and have a concern with humanity and the human comedy."
Before going to my first OPH (Old Person Helper) assignment yesterday I asked Sweetie if the division of labor was going to change. Actual "labor" being taken with a teeny spoonful of salt.
"Of course," my blue-eyed Type A husband responded. "I'll vacuum, dust, change the bed do the laundry and figure something out for dinner."
Good God that sounds like more than I do in a day. I told him I'd bring home a pizza. Four hours on the job after taxes would just about cover the cost of two pizzas.
I'm sworn to confidentiality so it's going to be hard to use my OPHing experience as fodder for my blog/great American novel. That said, if every job goes like the first, it might make for a prize winning America's Funniest Video. At the end of 2 hours, however, I'd stopped laughing and begun a slow to moderate burn.
The delightful news is that when I got home my Sweetie had, indeed, vacuumed and made the bed. The towels were folded and Sweetie sat in his chair, feet up looking like housework is a piece of cake. Until he tried standing. I noticed he had tweaked something. So easy to do when dancing with the vacuum cleaner like it's Ginger Rogers, or Fred Astaire as the case may be.
I took noticing to a whole new level today.
I noticed how easily words said in haste can hurt. And I noticed both sides get hurt when the words begin to fly. A good perspective for me to have, even after 2 years of being Dad-less.
I turned into my neighborhood and noticed this:
It's a good thing there wasn't a car behind me because I slammed on the brakes and made a quick U-turn. Seriously folks, how often to you see a lavender tree? And one that looks like the entrance to candy land is just too darn yummy to pass up. The lady who owns the house where the tree is resting assured me that her son won't leave it there long. I don't know, maybe there is some neighborhood association regulation against lavender trees. If it were me, I think I'd paint the rest of my fence to match it - or maybe add Styrofoam balls on the top of the posts to look like lollipops.
I swear seeing that tree made my day. Little Me squealed with joy.
When I arrived home, Mr. Clean was at it again. A bottle of orange oil appeared to be half-gone. Most every flat surface in the house (except for my piles which Sweetie is smart enough not to touch) possessed a dust free sheen. All the CD's were out of the cabinet which glistened inside and out. The fireplace bricks were about to be cleaned in a way they hadn't experienced since my mom was still in charge of cleaning.
I grabbed a dust cloth and began to help. It took a few turns around the room, before I began to notice a few subtle differences. My pig collection had been moved. Close to having a tizzy I looked up. There sat all my "happy"pigs, looking quite pleased to have a new view.
And my angels had been rearranged. The plants moved to the living room.
The Amish built fireplace my father loved was no longer in front of the real fireplace that we're too afraid to use because of the critter nests that surely clog the chimney.
Oh my, it's like a treasure hunt around here! I kind of like it. At the same time, I'm a little worried what's going to become of my laundry basket full of flannel. I think my sewing table should have a NO TRESPASSING sign on it, don't you?
Here's wishing you an orange-scented dust-free house,