It’s going to be pouring rain all day, even with rumblings of thunder, which means that I might as well stay inside and blog. Anything to keep from cleaning the house. How bout some takes.
This little list/picture is so funny.
The things this person thinks should be cleaned every day are astonishing to me, never mind the week and month and year. Matt thought it might be humanly possible if that was the only thing you did. Like, you were young and strong and had no children and no paying occupation and just devoted yourself to making it through the list, you might be able to do it. But the minute you add a child and the need for paying employment, it’s over. Still…would it kill the children to rinse out their own stupid cereal bowls and put them in the dishwasher? Why does that only have to be my job?
Also, if you refer back to my Circle O Reality from yesterday,
you’ll see that that all work is gathered into one single quadrant. That’s all your paying work, and all your housework, and all the work you get to do for free because no one would ever dream of paying you to do it. It can only be in one quadrant because, due to the sheer enormity of it, you need a full quadrant to freak out about that fact.
Later in the day, after my brilliant drawing blessed the internet, I thought maybe I could try dividing my actual work into fourths. House, Homeschool, This Stupid Thing I Should Write, and Church. If each fourth takes me 20 hours a week, that’s only an 80 hour work week. That should be fine, right? Here’s a picture of what that actually looks like.
Here’s a video of a very very very foolish man. I tried to imbed it but I’m not really smart enough, you have to click the link. I like to think this is a beautiful and perfect metaphor for the internet.
I happened upon a funny video articulating everything I feel about bad architecture, AND the terrible, but very real, possibility that the French will redo Notre Dame in glass, steel, and Jumbotron screens. I can’t post the video because what made it so funny were all the bad words. So instead, here is another gem from Black Lamb and Gray Falcon which expresses much the same sentiment but more elegantly. Seriously, why aren’t you reading this book? It’s the most beautiful book in the world. This is the start of the chapter on Sarajevo. West and her husband and guide have a visit to the town hall:
Actually it is the Moslems who have the most reason to complain of this Town Hall, for their architecture in Sarajevo is exquisite in its restraint and amiability, and even in modern times has been true to that tradition. But this was designed by an Austrian architect, and it is stuffed with beer and sausages to its very toes. It is harshly particoloured and has a lumpish two-storied loggia with crudely fretted arches, and it has little round windows all over it which suggest that it is rich beyond the dreams of avarice in lavatories, and its highly ornamented cornices are Oriental in a pejorative sense. The minaret of the mosque beside it has the air of a cat that watches a dog making a fool of itself. p. 331
Our elderly cat, often pictured on this blog as the Cat Who Hates You And Doesn’t Care About Your Facts or Feelings,
keeps popping out the back door whenever anyone opens it. Heretofore she has done this ostentatiously, so that you know that she knows that she is winning. But twice now she has done it covertly, creeping over to the neighbors under the cover of thoughtlessly careering children. Except that she is old and doesn’t actually want to be long away from her bowl. So then she stands and glares at you from the crack under the fence, and you have to go across and get her back and then she whacks you for your trouble. The only way to pacify her is with some diced chicken or ham. She refused lamb this week, and we’re trying to keep her away from her large daily bowl of milk because its not good for her tummy. So basically the whole household spends all daylight hours picking her up, putting her down, feeding her little bowls of meat, and fetching her from the neighbors. I hope I am just like her when I am old. And I’m also very grateful that she is not the size of that beast above, because gruesome would be my demise.
Here is the recipe I used for the hot cross buns. Expect I only used craisons because my children are awful, and I soaked them in brandy because that’s what I had, and overall they were utterly delicious and I think I should make them again at least once in this long Easter season. Especially if it means not having time to vacuum my mattress and avoiding all those other hours of work I should really think about doing.
Go check out more takes!