Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines)

Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) at

If you’ve been around a while, you know I have a fear of public libraries. Not of what they are, but of my own tendency to lose books or forget to return them for weeks months years on end.

But as I worked on my book manuscript over the past few months, my feelings of dread were mostly replaced with warm-fuzzies.

Y’all, when you need a place to work without distraction and without feeling obligated to buy really expensive cups of coffee, the local library is the perfect place to go. I spent day after day in ours.

So many days that I finally took a big risk and checked out a book for my son. He wanted to read it, but was way down the list to check it out at his school library.

I shoved down my panic, knowing I was coming every single day and that my chances of remembering to return this book were significantly higher than usual.

I walked to the Counter of Shame and told them I was sure I had a fine.

I did.

It was $25.

img Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) at

A sufficiently embarrassing fine, don’t ya think? And yet, still, I felt warm fuzzies.

All that time in the library let me see how vital it is for our community. How vital it is for every community. I didn’t even know we had homeless people in our town, but we do. They get warm and spend time learning and bettering themselves every single day in the library.

As someone who has an Internet Presence, I forget there are those who don’t have access to the internet. But I saw people, young and old, in the library everyday, using the computers to take classes and apply for jobs and improve their lives.

I also know that as a young mom in a new town, the first friends I made were the ones I met at preschool storytime. (Though I purposefully avoided those noisy times when working on my book.)

I know. I’m mostly just getting sentimental. But even though I didn’t like writing a check for $25 to pay fines on things that could have been free, I was happy that the money was going for a very good cause. A cause I had personally benefited from for months.

Not that I’ve decided I can afford library books after all. I really can’t. I stopped checking out books for my son a few weeks before my manuscript was due because I couldn’t be ABSOLUTELY sure I’d be there every single day when he was done with it.

And I’m most excited that I can now check out books on my Kindle since I’m fine-free. You can’t even check out Kindle books if your KIDS have fines. Kindle books don’t get late fines, they just disappear from your Kindle!!

I am hoping that my future financial support will come from donations of books for their annual book sale. That sounds much better than $25 fines, don’t you think?

Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) pin at


All I Wanted to Do Was Take a Funny Picture . . .

All I Wanted to Do Was Take a Funny Picture

Really. I just wanted a laugh from Hubby. I was going to send him a sneakily taken picture of this cutie-patootie:

puppy at

I was going to say something like: This is why I don’t eat food that I left in the living room, even just for a second. The picture I couldn’t quite get was of her shamelessly chowing down on what was left of my lunch within thirty seconds of me leaving the room to change over the laundry.

But I couldn’t get a good picture. The light was terrible. I zoomed and I repositioned as I tried to keep her from seeing me (she’s nice enough to wait until she thinks I’m out of the room and clueless), but nothing worked.

I finally gave up, but did swipe through all of the pictures to see if any might work.

And I saw that picture above.

Seriously? All I wanted to do was take a funny picture, and instead I get undeniable proof that I haven’t dusted that picture frame in who-knows-how-long. Blech.

Oh. The laundry pile? That isn’t a bad thing. It was Laundry Day and that pile was just waiting its turn.


My Favorite Delusion: “If I Had More Time”

My Favorite Delusion If I Had More Time at

My mostest favoritest Slob Delusion in the whole wide world?

If I had more time/wasn’t so busy/didn’t have SO MANY other things to do, my house would be clean.



Without me even realizing I was cleaning it.

Is it the true definition of delusional when someone has learned from (oh-so-much) experience that something isn’t true, but still holds on to the belief in the depths of her Slob Heart?

Summer was fun. Summer wasn’t lazy (with swim team and musical theatre and football training and such), but there were days where I truly had time.

Chunks of mornings with nothing I HAD to do.

No pressures or expectations.

So I cleaned house.

But because I felt no time pressure, I found myself falling back into my old ways of Piddly Cleaning.

Piddly Cleaning = Wandering around, picking up or dusting or wiping down whatever came across my vision.

Piddly Cleaning doesn’t work, y’all.

Here’s how it goes for me: I start clearing the dining room table, but as I go to put something away, I notice there are enough dark clothes to make a load of laundry. (Who needs Laundry Day when you have TIME??) I gather up the load of laundry, only to open the washing machine and realize I left a load in there yesterday (or the day before yesterday or the day before the day before yesterday). Time to grab the vinegar and re-wash that load. So much for the new load of darks.

And so on and so forth. Lots of starting, little finishing.

At some point, it’s time to pick up one of the kids from one of his/her activities, but even though I’ve been “cleaning” for an hour and a half, I’d never convince a jury that I’d done a single thing.

Piddly cleaning, even for long periods of uninterrupted time, produces pretty much no visible results.


I know this. I have a distinct memory of a conversation with Hubby when the kids were itty-bitty. I was wailing that I felt like I spent all-day-every-day cleaning, never sitting down to watch a show or read a book or catch a nap, and yet at the end of the day there was nothing to show for it.

The reason I remember this conversation so well? The look in Hubby’s eyes. A forced, supportive smile revealed as inauthentic by the confusion/disbelief/skepticism in his eyes.

The natural evidence that I’d cleaned house all day would be . . . a clean house. Right?

A decade or so later, I get it. I understand why (after six years of slob-blogging) Piddly Cleaning produces no traction.


But I still fall for this particularly loved delusion. As frustrating as re-learning this was, I guess it’s a good reminder.

The basics are the basics no matter how busy I am. Dusting the display of glassware in the back room won’t produce a “Wow, the house looks great!” if dishes are sitting in the sink.

Yes, it’s harder when life is crazy. But on its own, “life not being crazy” doesn’t automatically result in a clean house.

Routines result in a clean house.




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