Wednesday is official cleaning day at the Dobsons. I vacuum, wash handprints off the mirrors, and scrape globs of hardened jam off the hardwood floor. Yep—glamorous stuff. The highlight of our week.
While I’m cleaning the entire house, the girls are responsible for picking up their playroom—putting away their toys and play clothes and books so I can actually see the floor before I sweep it. So today, once again, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon and I can’t tell if they’ve cleaned up a single toy because of the mountain of toys that have accumulated since they started “working” after breakfast.
The odd thing is, if I tell them to go PLAY in their playroom, will they go willingly? Nope. They would much rather be playing in the bathroom or kitchen or on Mommy and Daddy’s bed. But if I tell them to go CLEAN their playroom, they’ll rush to the loft, sit there all day and, well, play. Suddenly all the dolls and books and their little monkey laptop are very interesting. Much more exciting than cleaning. Sigh…
I’m done cleaning the house. They’re still working. So now I’m writing a blog. Not so strange except I’m on a tight deadline for The Black Cloister. And just like my girls, I am doing everything else except work on my manuscript. I’ve cleaned the house this week. Answered dozens of emails. Started reading a new book. Made a Christmas list. Watched Dancing with the Stars. Even hung up some new pictures. Because just like my sweet procrastinators, the very thought of being on deadline makes me want to do just about anything else except write.
Well, Karly is now shouting that she’s done. The reward—yogurt parfaits (my girls are “Fancy Nancy” fans).
Maybe that’s what I need to finish this deadline. A giant parfait. A couple more hours of cleaning time for my girls. And to actually edit my manuscript instead of this blog.