I think I'll start getting up earlier, but NOT for chores or exercise, but to surf the web a bit at my leisure. Jimmy's iPhone jarred us awake before the alarm had a chance to perform its duties, so I headed upstairs to the Mac and hopped on board. Clicked on Blogger to dash off an entry but glanced down at my list of fan blogs and noted an alluring opening line for "The Pioneer Woman" a.k.a. Bree Drummond. I'm both immeasurably impressed and exhausted when I cruise her headings and pages. Take a look for yourself. I mean, good night, Irene! Where does she find the time while homeschooling and living on that vast ranch? Her camera is all over the place. But I'm thinking her blog is an extension of her life. Of her career. And she knows somebody with top notch skills concerning the web and blog layout. Hook a girl up, please, Bree?!
So, I've been thinking about my junk drawer. (Yes, that is a significant aspect of my adventurous life.) You know what I'm talking about? The one drawer in your kitchen (or two, if you're me) where miscellany items make their way into perpetuity via a moment of random storage. "Oh, not sure what, exactly, to do with these 15 extra packets of mild sauce from Taco Bell. Don't want to waste. Let's throw 'em in HERE!" And there they drop, next to the empty mint tins and pre-packaged spork and napkin ensembles. On top of the photo Christmas cards from last year that didn't make it in the box up in real storage. (Real storage as opposed to 'random' storage. Got it?) But that's my junky junk drawer. I may actually resolve to dissolve that drawer. There are genuine bonafide kitchen accessories vying for that spot. If you've never seen a tea bag squeezer compete for space against a high-temp rubber baster brush, you ain't seen nuthin! "En garde!"
No, my other junk drawer is generally neater -- my bit of control in an environment of chaos. Most of the time I can slide it open and exhale the stale air in my lungs as my eyes behold the orderliness of everything in its place and a place for everything. Organized plastic lidded containers with rubberbands, paper clips, extra picture nails, and bag ties. There's a niche for my collections of colored Sharpies and the dry erase pens. A spot for scrap note paper and note pads. For whatever reason, a deck of cards always seems to earn a corner of the drawer, too, right next to the Scotch tape. But the go-to item would be the pens and pencils. Only, no matter how often I replenish the stock or toss in the cool chunky pens Jimmy brings home from the office, it seems that there is a Bermuda Triangle effect going on. Because whenever we go to actually USE these necessary writing utensils, THEY DON'T work! Pencils refuse to sharpen and erasers either fall out or appear to have been chewed by a bored child or invisible No. 2 rodent. Clear-barreled pens, sparkling cores of black, blue and red visually apparent, reveal nothing when pressed to page. Grrr. And I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW that these are the same pens which didn't do their jobs the last time someone dipped in the drawer. So why are they not thrown out? Why are they left to torture ME at a later, urgent, desperate, message-taking time?
At the moment, I do know of ONE pen, the lone ranger, that will copy a phone number or scrawl a note to be taped on the microwave door. It boasts the Embassy Suites logo on its opaque side. I grabbed it as we were leaving our New Year's weekend getaway because I knew we needed a pen for the drawer. It's been three days and the thing has yet to fall prey to the virus which has sucked the life from its lesser companions. Perhaps that's what I should do from here on out? Request pens from my regular hotel-/motel-dwelling friends and relatives. My sanity is at stake here, folks!
Having said all that, besides breaking down Christmas in the living room, can you guess what mundane chore will be executed by these rat-a-tat-tatting fingers on this overcast wintry Thursday morning? (Is that fog out there?!) Wish me well. As for all of you, whatever range of ho-hum but vital tasks exist on your list this gray morning, I wish you success in conquering the marauding mole hills.
Save the mountains for this weekend.
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