it snows...

it is snowing and has been since we opened our eyes this morning and I'm sure from before. It is a wet snow which clings to the trees and rooftops. Jackmo and the girls will not venture outside. We can hear them in their coop, softly complaining. They hold us responsible for all weather events. Hoagy sleeps. He knows he isn't going anywhere soon. We don't mind. We have food and we have a movie to watch later. And I, dear readers, am cleaning Step-Dot's room. I have decided to do it cheerfully and not in a fury. I can fall into a fury going into her room and finding spoons and glasses and many many things she has borrowed or I have given her, lying in disarray and covered in woofies under her bed. So far, before I even came downstairs, I swept it all into a ginormous pile. Then I had her father come and look at it. Just so he doesn't think I'm making it up. Then I took a picture of it just so I remember that I didn't make it up. Now, in a few moments, I'll go up and begin the endless sorting of tiny little pieces of paper, important hair barrettes, abandoned buddies (stuffed creatures) and zillions of articles of clothes and books. I will clean it all. I will remove the too-small table that I gave her - hand painted in wondrous hues and put in a large folding table. I will cover it with a cloth and re-arrange everything I think she might still want to use on top of it. I will change her bed and make it afresh. I will clean off the deep window sills of their clutter and wipe them down. I will sweep and vacuum. I will wash clothes and hang them in the basement to dry. I will clean off her bedside table. I will bring out my beautiful folk-painted trunk and put it in my office since she isn't using it except as another place to dump crap on. I will clean her closet which is used to store garbage, near as I can figure. I will try and think of a system that she can use easily to store her clothes and her stuff. I will play music or listen to CBC while I do this and I will take frequent breaks involving reading and Sunday puttering. Step-dot will arrive here after school tomorrow from her two week stint at her mother's and she will not mention the room. She really won't. She'll be mad that I did it but will also know that I gave her many opportunities to save me the bother. I will tell her that I actually, even at my advanced age, remember the sinking horrible feeling of not having anything done, my home-work, my room, my chores and feeling forever like a bad person. And that I really really want her to get that this is a gift and that I love her and want her to feel like one area of her life is organized just for a bit. And that I'm not mad at her AND I will clean her room from time to time if she won't. When I'm finished I will take a picture of it and feel good.