Procrastination

I've spent the better part of the weekend cleaning. And procrastinating. And making a mess through my procrastination leading to more cleaning and more procrastination.

I needed to find the source of the wet dog smell - I don't have a pet - the Turkish rug, the sodden cardboard, the putrid puddles under the bed. My exciting weekend plans included scrubbing the floors and the floorboards. Washing everything that had touched the floor in a week.

By Sunday morning, I'd cleaned the floors in my apartment three times and set the rugs outside to air and dry in the sun. I dropped the roof on my Jeep and gave it a chance to dry as well as a friend and I drove to Fredricksburg to pick up her packet for the Marine Corps Historic Half. With sunburned cheeks and windblown hair, I pushed off the thoughts that woke me at 4 on a Saturday morning, a time I've more often seen at the end of a night than the start of a day.

I stripped the beds, the bathroom, the kitchen and pulled together the clothes I'd set out to dry and made a 7 a.m. trip to the laundromat. I had scrubbed the kitchen and the bathroom, the guest room and the hall. I scrubbed the living room and I knew I would have to do it all again, at least twice. With heavy heart and aching limbs, I needed the break. The drive in the sun. Trips to the grocery for things that were fun and completely unnecessary.

These…

These were really hard and took entirely too much time, but they are delicious. And they helped me procrastinate, to bake and to feed with little expense and a whole lot of learning. I didn't really get the hang of it until the end of each stage. If I were to ever make them again, I might do a slightly better job, but even the less-than-perfect cupcake bites served a purpose.

They did manage to improve relations with my neighbors who continue to see me more and more as a human being than the girl under the stairs. They called to let me know they were draining their canoe, which might have drenched the drying rugs.

I also traded a plateful of cupcakes for a book and some conversation with some of my favorite guys at my local bookstore. They would have given me the book without the baked goods and I would have delivered the treats without anything in return.

The rest I'll take to my office.

As I get back to my cleaning, to scrubbing and shelving, tossing and sighing, I'll remember that I made something delicious, something pretty and somewhat impressive, just for the sake of baking and making them.



Tag: Home Cleaning Procrastination