Saturday, June 18, 2005

I Didn't Make the Mess

"Mommy, can you clean up the Play-Doh?"

"I didn't make the mess, so I'm not cleaning it up."

"Daddy, can you come clean up the purple circles?"

"Alana, why aren't you watching him?"

Thus goes the story of my life. During the school year, I'm paid to clean up after fifth-graders. The rest of my life is spent cleaning up after a three-year-old. It's not very satisfying, because inevitably, there will be a worse mess to clean up in the next few minutes. I just want the house to stay clean for one whole day! Is that too much to ask?

So, I come from a long line of anal women. We take pride in cleanliness, and have been known to clean up before the housekeepers come, so "they won't think we're messy people". We are also very blunt women. God skipped over me when He was passing out tact, and the things that are on my mind seem to come flying out of my mouth before I can edit them. It presents a sticky situation sometimes, considering I also am unable to lie. It would be so nice sometimes to be able to at least tell a harmless little white lie, but no, I come out with the plain, unvarnished truth. Perhaps that is why my careers in sales and in waitressing didn't exactly flourish?

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