EIGHTY-THREE

I SPENT THE last two days cleaning the Boy's room.  We got him a loft bed - actually both the offspring have loft beds because their bedrooms are dorm-room small.  We figured it would maximize the space.  The pictures of the beds we picked out seemed to confirm this.

This is what I pictured.  The kids in that little underneath space coloring or reading a book.  The Girl actually does go under her bed to read or draw.  The Boy is another story.  We cleaned out the underneath this weekend and found many, many frightening things.  The pieces of bread I found were either toast or became toast-like over time.  He had a nice little bookshelf underneath but it was mostly filled with empty water bottles, wrappers and some books.  I should have known it was a mess under there, even the cats refused to come into the room.  

His room is pretty much clean - I just have one last tub of junk to deal with.  It is even possible that he will play with his toys -- now that he can get to them.  Of course I wonder how long this new clean room will last.  There is something about life that seems to prevent me from having a pin-neat house.  I'm always fighting disaster.

I can relate to the Boy's messiness.  My room was never the portrait of clean, and I've been known to shove a few things under my bed or into my closet.  I once lost my entire candy-selling box in my bedroom.  I had to pay for all those two dollar chocolate bars myself, and by the time I finally found it -- it was inedible.  

I suppose it is symbolic of life in general - the way we always try to keep everything together and straight, but there is always something neglected and hidden.  There is always some place we neglect or forget about where water bottle lids gather. It seems like life has a way of keeping us our toes, and trying to keep our sea legs under us.

I'd write a longer post, but I've got four more rooms to clean so . . .

--Jen