Feeling guilty that I had left a kitchen full of dishes last night, I take my time getting up and getting busy. The dishes would be there – regardless of my preference to spend a few more moments day-dreaming, writing, and resting. They usually wait. They don’t usually get up and wash themselves. Last night, there was far more on the “plate” than food – it was a celebration of 50 years of life for my hubby. And that was far more important than doing dishes.
Today is the kind of day when you are not compelled to do anything at all, let alone rush to put out the garbage or tidy up from the birthday party of the previous day. It is dreary. I am sleepy. Kevin is off to work and David is off to school. It is the kind of day where you just want to stay in bed.
My watch read 50 steps this morning. I have one of those nifty little Fitbits. This one even has a GPS in it so that I can tell where I am and where I’ve been. Which is good for me these days. Even that number tried to make me feel guilty about not getting up and doing something.
Finally – the guilt overtook me and I got up to go downstairs and survey the damage left from the night before. I counted my steps, “52… 60.. 80..” It is very unsatisfying to have not even reached 100 by ten o’clock in the morning. At least I added another “stair” to my count. Around the corner I walked to the kitchen. “85… 95… 100”, read my watch.
I looked up. I was stunned. What to my wondering eyes did appear? Nothing! Nada dish in sight (bilingual pun in case you didn’t catch it). A dish fairy had visited the kitchen sometime between late last night and 100 steps. It was a miracle. My heart soared. The dog wagged her tail (anticipating I had come down to take her for a walk). I blinked. Yup. Still clean. There was evidence of clean everywhere. Clean pans on the counter. Clean dishes in the dishwasher. Clean sink. Clean, clean, clean. What the heck? I waited. The magic did not lift.
“Well, now what do I do?” I thought. I was lost. Yup. Without those dishes I was lost. I looked at the dog because she knew what I could do. “Later, Jazz”, I announced to her. And I brewed myself a cup of coffee and decided I needed to write.
Up the stairs I went with coffee in hand. “Later, Jazz. Honestly, just let me drink my coffee.”
“105, 110, 130”, read my watch as I crawled back into bed.
And here I sit at 130 steps, sipping coffee, marveling at the miracle of dish fairies!
Now, if only there were a bill and mortgage payment fairy!