Home Sick

All three kids are home sick today. For breakfast, one asks for tea, another peaches, another wants cous cous. She is the queen of cous cous, that one, and I am the slave of cous cous, how I hate to try to clean up the sticky granules that rain abundantly on the floor. Clearly, I will be a better person when I am less freaked out by messy things. I think I'm going to pick up Pema Chodron again, but I will have to search those books out because I think I gave all my copies away.

I took a picture of my oldest daughter's room, which, as usual, is messy to the point of being booby trapped. Maybe it's in the way the golf club leans against the open desk drawer in which lies an empty bottle of seltzer on which the scissors are propped.

Maybe she's a genius at mess. Is that something of value in our society? Are there many who call themselves connoisseurs of disarray? If so, they would find plenty of material for their collections around these parts.

Later thoughts: the connoisseur of disarray.... hmmm, Satan, maybe? That's a scary thought, but, it works.