I get so irritated with myself sometimes.
How many times have I posted about the wonders of consistency in my daily tasks? The great feeling that I get when I do them, even though I didn’t feel like it? The importance of placing my family high enough on the priority list that I see a reason to keep a clean house even when no visitors are coming? How much better the house looks if I spend fifteen minutes being focused on it?
Blah blah blah.
Yada yada yada.
And on and on and on.
And yet, today when it occurred to me that tomorrow is the first Sunday evening in months that we won’t be having home groups here, I felt only relief that I didn’t have to do any picking up or kitchen-cleaning this weekend.
The house is looking “unstraightened” if that makes any sense. I’ve been unearthing props for something at church, hubby came home from being out of town and his suitcase is half-unpacked, and it’s generally been a strange week with my oldest having surgery. A few minutes is all it would take to get it looking nice again, so we could enjoy our Christmasy-feeling-house for the weekend while we’re all home enjoying each other.
I have a wonderful ability to find excuses.
I need to get over that.