refrigerator poetry

sometimes things feel scattered from the moment I wake up. I head to the kitchen to make breakfast and am instantly distracted by the refrigerator magnet poetry. I see the phrase 'shake like the black sky' and think hey, I like that. who did that? ava? ward? me? I secretly hope that I'm responsible for said prose but can't remember. which is when I start playing around with the words, moving them this way and that way until I'm all, hey what happened to breakfast?

the rest of the day unfolds like this. an ongoing series of fits and starts. I roll in many directions and there's no stopping it. I confidently attack an unsightly pile of laundry in the bedroom only to remember the library books that need to be renewed. which sends me to the computer where said library books are renewed. which is a good thing until I decide to take a quick look around the flickr scene (just a quick look) when suddenly, I find myself lost in a world of photos tagged 'rollerskating'. or I'm bookmarking photos to have made into moo cards. which is when I force myself to close the mac and snap out of it already.

then I'm boxing up halloween decorations when the kids say hey, what happened to that snack you said you were going to fix us? which sends me running for the kitchen where I spy that one butternut squash just sitting there (waiting patiently) and I think hey, soup. I should make soup. yes! soup! snacks are served and the vegetables for the soup are promptly retrieved and laid out, ready to be chopped. then I notice the dirty dishes, which is when all the unloading and loading of the dishwasher begins because no, I cannot freely chop with a mess like that hanging around, stinking up the joint, harshing my mellow. no ma'am. so not sanitary. but really, I just don't want to chop up all those vegetables. then I catch sight of the enormous pile of (still) unfolded clothes in the bedroom. which somehow leads to the beginning of a massive reorganization of the closet where I suddenly decide that the entire contents must be rearranged according to color. which, for some strange reason, makes me think of the unpaid water bill. Am completely unable to properly color-coordinate the closet until all is well and good in the land of utilities.

then I notice how suspiciously quiet the kids are which, of course, requires immediate investigation. I am surprised to find that they are up to nothing but drawing and coloring. happily. together. which I know won't last for more than four minutes so why not seize the opportunity and check a little email? though not without putting a load of laundry in first. which means a trek down to the basement where I walk past my cozy little workspace that is ever so close to being finished enough to actually work in. while I'm down there, I decide to put a couple of boxes away and before I know it, I'm looking through fat stacks of photos that date all the way back to 1993. which eventually leads to the discovery of both ava and ezra's baby books where I am horrified to discover just how unfinished they really are. which is when I promptly march back upstairs and vow to start working on the books immediately. because what could be more important than this? what, I ask you? well, dinner maybe. the soup is so obviously not even close to being done which is okay because no one really likes the butternut squash soup but me anyway. well, ward says he likes it but I think he's just saying that to be nice. really, it's a very delicious tasting soup. it's just not his thing. he'll deny this, just you wait and see, but I know the truth.

so anyway, I start to boil the water for the pasta. which is when I realize how totally exhausted I am. which wouldn't be so bad if I had something to show for it. something, anything. I have absolutely nothing to show for the day. except for the part where I served that really excellent snack. I'm just saying.