There’s an Egg on My Washer: A Day in the Life

This morning the house was finally empty as all 6 of us were home yesterday because of a snow day.  I had a 10 page paper to write, so I locked myself in the home office, in the sweats I slept in, and worked all day applying Brown’s Values Based work model, while the kids “dusted”, cleaned out the barn and had snowball fights. After a day of grunge and isolation, this morning I thought I’d get dressed for the day, thinking I get out tonight, co-leading a drug and alcohol class.  I got my boots on, actually “did” my hair (whatever that means) and then I realized:


I have to bottle feed the baby goats today.  



Not too taxing of chore, but in my just cleaned up world, it meant changing clothes in a few hours, spending 10 minutes crawling into a pen filled with baby goats, a mamma goat, and a calf who will suck my pants while I bottle feed the little kids.


Shoot.  So much for getting cleaned up.


Then I remembered the progression of my day, which, a few minutes earlier, was simple.


Work on the second paper, type client notes, feed goats, be the Merry Maid cleaning the weekly house I clean, pick up Kent from school, fix dinner for the revolving family door tonight, and then counseling at the group class tonight.


For a few minutes, I was a girl excited to do the girl thing in the mirror, mind empty of cares, listening to one of my favorite song in the background, until I remembered the rest of my life.


But then what should I expect?  There was an egg on my washer this morning. 

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