Please note:  I’m claiming artistic license more than scientific fact in this post.  I’m okay with that.

I think I have some sort of disability when it comes to caring about weather predictions.

I can not watch the weather. I’m incapable.

I’ve tried.

There are times when I know inside my logical-grown-up brain that I need to find out if tomorrow’s picnic might be canceled.   I stand in front of the TV and shush the kids, repeating the oft-heard phrase from my childhood . . . “I need to see the weather!”

Five minutes later, I realize that the weather segment is over and I have no idea what the weatherman said.  My mind wandered away to something far more interesting than temperature or humidity.  So I go back (using my handy-dandy DVR) and try again.

Five more minutes, and I am equally clueless.  I just can not bring myself to care about everyday weather predictions.

If it rains, I’ll get wet and then I’ll dry.  And I’ll be fine.

Tornadoes in the area?  I’m there.  40% chance of rain?  Could not care less.

Thankfully, I have a husband who stops the kids from walking out in flip-flops when it’s 40 degrees outside.

Ummmm, so what’s the point?

I’ve decided that my bed is our home’s Housekeeping Barometer. I know that barometers have something-or-other to do with the weather.  But their role in it is difficult to define.  Even by my weather-lovin’ hubby.

Something about air pressure.

But air pressure isn’t obvious. It doesn’t get me wet or make me sweat or cause me to regret not taking the time to dry my hair before leaving the house.

The barometer doesn’t show you the weather, but it gives you a pretty good idea of the direction the weather is going to go that day.

You can tell what the state of my home is going to be by the state of my bed. Well, not YOU, because I’d lock the door before you actually saw it.

This occurred to me last week when I realized that I hadn’t made my bed . . . in a while.

And at the same time, the entire house was spiraling out of control.

When the house is under control and I’m clipping along following my daily checklists and doing my weekly tasks, the bed is generally made.

To my slob-brain, the connection feels as ambiguous as the whole what-exactly-does-a-barometer-tell-you-about-the-weather? thing.

But it’s not ambiguous.  I can decide to make my bed.  I don’t have to wait and see if it’s a wad of blankets or a smooth surface after I get up.  A little muscle movement and a purposeful mental decision, and the bed is made.  And when the first thing I do in the morning is make the bed, I’m much more likely to be in the right frame of mind to head to the kitchen and empty the dishwasher.

And once I’ve emptied the dishwasher, the kitchen has a chance of staying clean for the rest of the day.

And if the kitchen is clean, I can spend small snippets of available time picking up clutter in the living room.

And so on and so on.

Almost like magic.

But not at all like magic.

 

I’m linking this up at Raising Homemakers’ Homemaking Link-Up.