Oh, heavens, I think I must be a very lazy person. I know I am, in fact, the laziest of people. I will live with a situation that is uncomfortable, inefficient, ugly and smelly, out of sheer laziness. This has all been brought home to me for the last few days, by reading the ten year's worth of blog by John Bailey. Here is this man, whose blog starts when he is 59, and he is constantly "clearing things away" or "washing down the shelves," or "giving the floor a good going over with some Flash." I'm halfway through the third year of this, and even though he rarely mentions it in his blog, he refers to it in a way that shows this is a regular process. And of course I know it is for most people.
I've just been comparing myself with the few people whose houses I know well, and feeling fairly okay about myself -- about my public self, anyway, since my private self will do almost anything not to have to get up from her chair once sat upon. When I sit down in front of the computer, I always take a book along, since otherwise I am stuck with the bookcase I have there (full of favorites for just that purpose) and that would never do, but once I am sitting, I'm not going to want to get up and go get it, so I'll HAVE to read one of those favorites!
In my leather chair in the living room, I have a box next to the chair which is for holding magazines and crocheting projects, and so on, but it is full of empty envelopes and bits of wrappers and so on, because it's there! And Heaven forbid I should have to actually get up and walk the two steps to a trash container.
And then of course, there is the pan in my sink, in the kitchen, the baking pan which was full of rhubarb and strawberry cobbler. It has been in the sink, full of water (changing all the time, at least) since May 20. And today is June 23rd. More than a month, and it has survived several washings-up. I will get down to just the dishes in the sink, and then give up.
And my public self is hardly any better. Hardly any. I do dust.